


Nightmare: A Shingeki No Kyojin Fanfiction

by kennapaige260



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Characters, Explicit Language, F/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennapaige260/pseuds/kennapaige260
Summary: In an unfair world, one has to learn how to survive.For Arden Black, this has never been more true.She has spent her entire life fighting to survive, and nothing changes when she and her two friends, Teagan Marlow and Calla Curtis, decide to join the military for various reasons. Arden never expected things to be this difficult, but then again, she never expected the strange Corporal who defies everything she knows about human beings. But Arden is a survivor, and she will fight her way through the nightmares in order to keep Calla free and Teagan happy, even if it means damning herself.





	1. Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction and is by no means my own creation. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that surface.
> 
> Most of this story revolves around Arden Black, a character so simple she is immensely complicated to write. Unfortunately, this means that character development must come before relationships, so those will be a slow burn. If this is not to your liking, I apologize, but it can't be helped at this point.
> 
> Please feel free to point out any comments and criticisms. I haven't watched the anime in quite a while, so some details might be different and timelines won't line up completely. I will try my best to keep things canon and to keep things edited and pretty, but I am one person and I don't have anyone to help me edit, unfortunately.

_We’re only kids who lost our way, but if we wait long enough we will be saved._

_Just sleep, just dream; this isn’t fair—no we’re not just what we seem._

_We wanna fly, but our souls are trapped inside._

_It’s not a game, not to blame, we’re forced to hide!_

_Just sleep, just dream; it’s only a nightmare—and soon we’ll be set free._

“Nightmare” by Nathan Sharp


	2. Adequate and Compliant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden, Teagan, and Calla begin training. For their safety, Arden deems it necessary to maintain a cover of adequate compliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not of my own creation. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters.
> 
> Some timelines and details will not match up to the anime. This story is heavily focused on a complicated character, so relationships will be slow. If this is not to your liking, I apologize, but nothing can be done.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and criticisms.

The sun is undeniably hot as it blazes down on her from above. Around her, other cadets complain about the heat, shifting uncomfortably and not at all recognizing the fact that they are under close scrutiny. Arden does not join them. She stands ramrod straight, feet shoulder-width apart, shoulders thrown back for balance. Her salute is impeccable, and she stares straight ahead, unmoving and unblinking. She has no need to speak to the others, because she isn’t here to make friends. She already has those. Arden knows that if she were to glance to her left, she would be able to see Calla’s pink hair ribbon floating in the light breeze, and just the tip of her golden bun on the top of her head. She doesn’t, but she knows that Calla stands perfectly still and silent, too. Behind her, Arden hears Teagan’s quiet humming, but knows that the brown-haired girl will follow her lead.

And so, Arden waits. She doesn’t sweat easily from the heat, and unlike these other brainless idiots, she doesn’t complain about the sun. When you’ve lived most of your life in a dingy hole, the sun is never something to wish away. In order to distract herself from the boredom threatening to consume her, Arden trains her concentration on the small building in front of her, where the higher-ups are most likely waiting and watching. This is nothing more than a test—a test of character, and she’s determined to pass. According to her mental count, they’ve been standing in the dry field for nearly two hours now, with no signs of any type of authority. Arden knows they haven’t been forgotten, because this is a tactic she would use. When there is someone waiting on your arrival, whether it be for a deal or anything else, forcing them to wait for a long period of time is a good way to judge their character. As such, it is no secret that the commanders tend to be present on the first day of training, so as to get an idea for the recruits they’d possibly be receiving in four years’ time.

Arden holds no illusions that she and her two friends are possibly the strongest of the lot here. She has personally made sure of that. Even though she has no knowledge of her her fellow recruits or their backgrounds, it is very obvious from the way they mope about, muttering complaints. With nearly thirty cadets lined up, all of them soft, scared, or stupid, it will take a lot to dumb herself down to blend into this group. It’s her personal policy to never be the best at anything—and even if you are, pretend you aren’t and hide in the crowd. When you’re the best, people hunt you down to use you as a weapon. Arden will not be that weapon.

Not again.

Then, at the two-hour fifteen-minute mark, the door to the tiny bunker is flung open and six men walk out. It’s hard to see through the brightness at first, but once Arden gets her bearings, she begins the task of identifying her spectators. She’s never been keen on being watched and evaluated, but that is what she has signed up for, and so she will ignore her own discomfort for the sake of Calla and Teagan. The first is General Pixis, leader of the Garrison. He’s drunk, Arden realizes after a heartbeat. If not, at least tipsy. The second is General Dok, who leads the Military Police. She has to to stop herself from curling her lip in disgust. She remembers the man from his days in the Underground, throwing his weight around and making life that much worse. He’s a worm of a man, all bark and no real bite, but he has connections and that makes him dangerous. The next one is the easiest to identify: Commander Erwin, leader of the Survey Corps. His shorter, black-haired companion is one Arden has no name for, but she doesn’t care much for the pinched scowl on his face, as if he’s just bitten into a lemon and then been forced to shove needles under his fingernails.

The final man makes his own identity known. “ _Listen up,_ you useless _shits_!” He bellows, startling the other cadets into returning to position. “My name is _Keith Shadis_ , and it’s my job to weed out the cannon-fodder! We don’t have time here for wriggling maggots, so get out if you can’t handle it!” No one moves a muscle as he paces along the length of the front row. Arden glances at him, bored, discerns him as not a threat, and returns to looking at Commander Erwin and his companion. Her inability to identify the shorter man irks her slightly, because Arden believed she would be able to identify someone close enough to the Commander. She’s done her homework on the government, and realizes that the place she can do the most good is with the Survey Corps.

Most here want to join the Military Police and be guaranteed a safe, cushy life inside the Walls. In order to do that, they must be one of the top ten in training. Arden cares little for that. She’s never had luxury before, never needed someone at her beck and call to survive. She relies on herself, and relies on Calla and Teagan, though she never asks them for anything. They joined the Training Corps of their own volition.

If it just happened to be after she told them she was joining, then so be it.

Shadis, who Arden vaguely confirms as their instructor, continues to yammer on about one thing or another. Arden hears him with one ear, storing the information that seems relevant. She’s had years to practice and hone her senses to be able to absorb information whilst the majority of her attention is elsewhere. She keeps her focus on Commander Erwin, who is completely oblivious to her gaze. His companion, however, is not. His eyes lock onto hers, and for nearly ten full minutes, they stay in that staring contest.

It is broken by Shadis, who is quickly becoming someone Arden despises. He stands in front of her and blocks her view. The smell of sweat and metal invades her nostrils, the acrid stench souring in her nose. Unwillingly, Arden slides her gaze up his body, eyes hard and calculating.

“Who are you, _maggot_?” He yells down at her, volume unnecessary for their close proximity. Arden knows she needs to choose how to proceed carefully. She needs to blend in, and so confronting him is a bad idea. Shadis is quite violent, and if she were to push his buttons, he would likely punch her. A simple punch is easy to dodge, of course, but that would defeat the point of blending in. Arden refuses to take a hit. She briefly entertains the idea of pretending it to be a result of adrenaline, but ultimately decides against it. At the same time, Arden will not stoop to a level so low as to _stutter_ a response.

She has made her decision in less than half a minute. Arden pulls in a breath, raises her volume to match his, and yells, “Arden Black, Sir!” During everything, her eyes never leave his. Shadis stands there for a beat, staring into her eyes. Whatever he sees there must satisfy him, because he pulls away and moves down the line to her left. The boy beside her is so tense he’s practically vibrating, his nervous energy making her feel sick. Arden returns her gaze to the leaders, and though she was invisible before, now all eyes are on her. Not exactly what she wanted, but not entirely unavoidable, either. After all, everyone before her has stuttered, listed some ridiculous reason for being here, or couldn’t understand what was happening. Every single one received some form of physical punishment.

“What about you, _princess_?” Shadis yells. “You think a _hair ribbon_ will get you through this? Who are you?”

“Calla Curtis, Sir!” Arden wants to glance to her left, but she keeps facing forward. They don’t need something to put in her file this early on. Calla’s voice is hard and unwavering, matching Arden’s perfectly. She’s set the example that her friends will follow. If they were anyone else, she’d be annoyed at the mimicry. Teagan and Calla mimic her because they trust her, because they respect her, because they’re a strange, dysfunctional family. They know she’s already read the situation and calculated everything to the maximum, because that is how Arden survives. That is how Arden will keep them alive. She’ll have to tell them to tone their skills down during training later, when they get a moment. Commander Erwin’s blue eyes meet hers curiously, and he turns to say something to his companion. The other replies, but Arden has never been too proficient at reading lips and she’s not particularly interested in what they’re saying.

“Teagan Marlow, Sir!” Arden missed Teagan’s interrogation, but her voice, though still happy, is loud and firm. Arden has only ever seen that girl cry once. She’s had a sneaking suspicion that Teagan was born with a smile on her face, and it rarely ever leaves.

Bored completely now, Arden closes her eyes and waits for dismissal.

* * *

 

Levi Ackerman does not want to be here. The last thing he needs right now is to be forced out of his office to go observe the new brats on their first day of training. He could honestly care less, because until the brats are in the Survey Corps and under his command, he doesn’t really see how they’re his problem. As it is, most of the lazy shits are moping about, lines lax and salutes nonexistent. He doesn’t have the best view, and the window is so fucking dirty he doesn’t have a hope of getting a clear look. He thinks a few of them are maintaining position. If he actually cared, Levi would admit that the few individuals have perseverance for holding that tense stance for two fucking hours.

If he actually cared.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Shadis,” Nile Dok is currently saying. “Could we get this started? I’m very busy.”

_Not likely_ , Levi thinks, though he agrees this whole procedure could use some speed. He hasn’t had his afternoon cup of tea yet, the only thing keeping him somewhat sane at this point. The bunker door is opened and Shadis leads the way out. Levi boredly takes the end of the pack, scowling as the heat smacks him in the face. He’s right—a handful of the brats are still saluting smartly. A few of them stick out—the girl with a pink fucking hair ribbon, a boy whose stance is so poor Levi is surprised he hasn’t passed out, another who is using the wrong hand for his salute.

Shadis proceeds to introduce himself to the cadets, who quickly scramble back into place. “Tch.” Levi glares at them, because if he still has to deal with this when they inevitably get put in his hands, he’s likely to just toss them over the Wall himself.

That’s when he feels it: the prickling sensation that means someone is staring at him. It’s not hard to find the culprit. All of the other fucks are looking at their feet, or the sky—anywhere except straight ahead, where Shadis is pacing back and forth. Levi finds the motion annoying, because only those who are incapable of dominating a room just by entering pace to draw attention to themselves. Only three have the balls to look forward: the one with the hair ribbon, one with an annoying smile, and the one who is staring straight at him. So, he stares back. Her posture is impeccable, uniform straight and salute perfect. She has pale skin and black hair tied into twintails. He can’t see the exact color of her eyes, but he thinks they’re green. Her face is curiously blank, seemingly unbothered by the long period of standing in direct sunlight. Actually, if Levi really stops to think about it, the other two are mimicking this one closely. But that takes brain cells he doesn’t care to use, so he doesn’t stop to think about it.

Levi isn’t precisely sure how long he stares back at the girl, who looks older than most of the other brats. Her face has lost a majority of the baby fat, leaving a sharp chin and defined cheekbones. Their staring contest is broken by Shadis, who stops in front of her and completely obscures her from Levi’s view. He curses internally, because he wants to see this girl’s face when she interacts with Shadis’s violent tendencies.

“Who are you, _maggot_?” Shadis bellows, still at full volume.

“Arden Black, Sir!” Her voice, even though young, is sharp and holds a hardness that is surprising for someone her age. There is no hesitation to her response, her volume matching Shadis’s without coming across as confrontational. Levi isn’t sure what she’s playing at. She didn’t stutter, like the other brats, but to him, she seems more likely to try and push someone’s buttons than play nicely with others. She doesn’t strike him as the type to accept anyone’s authority but her own. Levi is somewhat shocked again when Shadis moves on without physically assaulting the girl. That by itself draws the attention of Erwin and the other shitheads. Three more snivelling brats, and then Shadis reaches the girl with the hair ribbon. This girl’s response of “Calla Curtis, Sir!” followed by the smiley-shit girl’s of “Teagan Marlow, Sir!” send off Levi’s senses. They’re all too similar for his taste, from their stances, to their responses, and even the stupidly annoying way they tie their hair back.

This last one somewhat shocks Levi, because he usually doesn’t care about how females style their hair. As long as it’s clean, presentable, and he doesn’t have to cut it loose from the 3DMG cables, it doesn’t matter. Then again, he usually sees the same handful of styles: short and down, ponytail, or a simple bun at the back of their head.

Black’s hair is tied into tight twintail braids, the little nubs poking out from the back of her skull. Curtis’s is in a bun, yes, but it’s located on the top of her head. Marlow’s brown hair is tied into two buns on the top of her head, the distinct braids glinting somewhat in the sun. Levi has a sneaking suspicion that, if Curtis were to turn around, he’d see some type of braid.

“Interesting, don’t you think?” Erwin murmurs to him.

Mildly annoyed, Levi responds, “Elaborate. I don’t read minds.” It takes another moment, as Erwin’s attention is drawn by Shadis punching a cadet in the gut, sending him sprawling. _The one with the shitty stance_.

“The three girls,” Erwin finally says. “Curtis, Marlow, and Black.” Levi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think he _has_ to, because as far as he’s concerned, it’s a fucking ridiculous question. Erwin doesn’t really want his input, and Levi doesn’t really want to give it. If he did, that would mean admitting that he has been paying attention this whole time, and Levi despises admitting something he protested so strongly against just a few hours ago.

* * *

 

After Shadis is done with his torment for the day, he dismisses them to the canteen. Arden begins stalking across the field and over to the compound, following her nose to the source of the scent of cooking meat. Teagan falls into place on her right flank, Calla on her left. They don’t walk behind her, because that would be seen as a sign of weakness. Besides, Arden doesn’t want her friends to walk behind her as if she is above them.

Arden claims the table in the back corner, sequestered away from all the others. Calla and Teagan collect their food, but Arden only takes a roll. When her friends sit down, they look at her expectantly. “So?” Teagan asks, mouth full. “What are we doing?”

“Adequate and compliant,” Arden responds softly, another cadet getting too close for comfort. So far, her fellow members of the 102nd Training Squad leave much to be desired. “Keep your skill points low, but not hopeless. Stay out of the top ten, and clear of the bottom. Do as you’re told without question, and don’t cause any scenes.”

“What’s our endgame?” Calla asks, shooting Teagan an annoyed glance as the other girl happily slurps away at the soup she’d been provided.

“I’m flying free,” Arden says nonchalantly, as if it’s something casual. Pronouncing that she wants to go to the Survey Corps would raise red flags from both the cadets and the authorities. They might question her skill level, though unlikely, but it’s a risk Arden can’t afford to take. “Where you go is up to you.” But she knows what they’ll do. She always know what they’ll do. Some part of her is relieved—if they follow her, she can keep an eye on them and make sure they survive. The other part of her hates their compliancy, because they’re willingly following her to the deadliest branch of the military without a sense of self-preservation. Arden mindlessly chews on bites of her roll. Sitting with her back to a corner is more out of habit than anything else, carried over from her childhood.

Arden sees the shove coming before the boy does. This one is on the shorter side, as far as males his age go, with fluffy brown hair and icy blue eyes. He is sent sprawling across her table, arms flailing a little, between Calla and Teagan. In her usual setting, Calla would have told the boy off, but Arden had just told her to not cause any scenes. Instead, the golden-haired girl shoots the boy a disgusted glance and leans further away. “Sorry!” The boy yelps as Teagan easily pushes him back upright.

“Hey, no problem,” the brunette replies with her signature smile. The boy wanders off and Arden stands, collecting her friends’ empty plates. She returns them to the kitchen, where a tired cook directs her to a washbasin that is already full. Well, if she wants to be compliant…

Without saying a word, Arden begins washing and drying the dirty dishes. She doesn’t mind the work, as it gives her something to do. Arden isn’t used to sitting around and doing nothing. Besides, if she makes friends here in the kitchen, who knows when it will come in handy? If Calla and Teagan question where she’s at, they don’t bother to look for her.

“Hey, sweetie,” a woman says, capturing Arden’s attention. “You don’t have to do that. Your training starts early tomorrow. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

Arden continues to scrub the bowl in her hands. “I don’t mind, Ma’am,” she replies quietly. After that, no one questions her, and she is able to finish her self-appointed task rather quickly. She dries her hands on an offered towel before taking her leave, heading for the barracks. There are ten girls total, and more than enough bunks, but Teagan and Calla are already on the bottom of one of the bunks, backs pressed together changed out of uniform. Arden sets about taking off the brown leather jacket and unbuttoning her uniform shirt. She hangs them neatly, frustrated that she’ll have to wear the same thing again tomorrow. It’s not that she particularly minds it, as the uniform isn’t dirty, but if it is any way messed up, it could affect her image. The other girls are chattering in a group at the other end of the barrack, and Arden wonders if she’ll be able to sleep at all with them around.

The cadets have been provided a sleep outfit consisting of a white cotton short-sleeved shirt and a pair of white cotton shorts. Hers are sitting on the top bunk, presumably where one of her friends had placed it for her. They’re already asleep, and Arden quickly pulls off her skin tight uniform pants and changes into the sleepclothes. Arden pulls the ties out of her shoulder length black hair and combs her fingers through it to pull the braids loose. She quietly clambers up into the top bunk and lays down on her right side, her back to the wall.

* * *

 

The last thing Levi wanted to do was eat with the brats. Erwin reasons that it’s too late to travel back and that he’d like to speak with Shadis, so they might as well stay the night in the visitor barracks. Unfortunately, the brats go wild as soon as any overbearing supervision is taken away, laughing and jeering and making more of a mess than eating. He’s sat by the window, where he can look outside into the night and attempt to block out the deafening noise. How do twenty people manage to make so much of it? Levi tries to remind himself that they’re only young brats, but then he’s almost hit by a piece of soggy roll and loses everything he’d been building up.

Vision nearly red, he turns to look for the idiot responsible and just barely manages to stay seated. What helps is his observation of the trio of strange girls sat in the far corner of the room. Curiously enough, Levi looks over just in time to be able to read Black’s lips. _Adequate and compliant._ Odd. Levi unconsciously ponders the meaning behind the words, trying to keep himself from going batshit on the recruits. Compliant is normal around here—you do as you’re told, and you get praised for it. It does seem to go against the way he’s read Black’s personality. Levi has always been rather good at reading people, and is hardly ever wrong, but it _is_ possible. She could possibly be warning her companions to stay compliant, but _adequate_?

As Levi watches, a boy—the one with the shitty balance—is shoved onto the trio’s table, right between Curtis and Marlow. Curtis shoots the boy a look of disgust and leans away, whilst Marlow helps the boy stand straight again.

_Adequate and compliant._


	3. Defense and Uncertain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their cover still in place, Arden believes that staying on defense and pretending to be uncertain of their activities is for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is by no means my own creation. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that might appear.
> 
> Please feel free to leave any comments and criticisms.

Arden could say that she’s the first to wake up, but that would be a lie. The truth is that she didn’t really sleep the night before, so she was already awake when the sun began to rise. Arden climbs down from her bunk, gathers up her uniform, and wakes her friends. She waits patiently as they follow her lead, and then together they set off for the showers.

“Shower quickly,” Arden advises as they collect towels. She leaves the towel within reach and her uniform folded neatly on a bench before she steps into a cubical and turns on the spray. It’s cold at first, but quickly warms up to almost unbearable temperatures. She scrubs her body aggressively with the military-issued soap bar, washes her hair, and turns the water off. She wrings the excess water out of her hair before reaching out and grabbing her towel to dry her body. When she’s covered, Arden steps out of the cubical and begins putting on her uniform. She makes sure everything is perfectly straight and pristine. Calla and Teagan quickly follow her, and soon, they’re heading back to the barracks.

As per their new routine, Arden quickly braids Teagan’s hair into two neat buns on top of her head. She then twines a thick braid of Calla’s golden hair up the back of the girl’s skull and piles the rest into a bun on the top of her head, tying her hair ribbon around it. After she has finished with her friends, Arden then braids her own black hair back into her signature twintails. The other girls have started moving by now, and that’s when Arden sees them: the complicated belts and straps of 3DM gear.

Until this moment in time, Arden has completely forgotten that the gear is part of training. She’s used one before, when her brother had brought it home. He never had much use for it, but Arden saw opportunity and immediately began learning through trial and error. Learning how to use it is one thing—mastery is something else entirely. She eventually ran out of gas and never had the chance to get her hands on more. She never had the chance to teach her friends.

“How are you supposed to put these on?” Teagan questions, one set of belts dangling from a single finger that she keeps as far away from her as her arms will allow, looking as if she believes it will bite her at any moment.

“I have to agree,” Calla says, attempting to sort through the tangled mass. “Is there any type of instruction, or are we meant to do this on our own?”

 _It’s another test_ , Arden realizes, picking up a set of belts for herself. Calling on memories from her childhood, she begins sorting the belts into three different piles. “There are three sections,” she instructs quietly as she works. The other two quickly copy her movements. “Chest, waist, and legs. You will always begin with your legs and work your way up.” Arden finds the pieces for her feet and slide them into place. She moves and twists belts and straps, buckling them where they should be and tightening them until they feel secure. When her legs are done, she buckles the main belt around her slender waist and tightens. “Never let your fastens become loose. Do not tighten them too much, either—you’ll cut off your circulation. Make them snug.” Arden continues to wrap the belts around her upper body, slotting them into place until she can pull the harness part over her shoulders and connect the buckle across her chest, tightening to secure.

She checks her friends’ work. Not because she doesn’t trust their abilities, but because she cares.

They’re the first to the canteen, leaving just as the other girls begin to file in from the showers, complaining about how the water turned cold. This time, Arden deigns to eat whatever they’re serving for breakfast. As a general rule, she doesn’t allow herself to eat too much at a time. After a childhood with barely anything, Arden decided that being too greedy with food will get her nothing except an upset stomach. She doesn’t necessarily care what she eats, as long as it’s edible and won’t kill her. She eats with dignity, being sure to leave her area sparkling clean.

“What do you think we’ll do today?” Calla asks.

Calculating chances, Arden takes another bite of the bland, tasteless food and chews. It’s very possible that they’ll move straight into 3DM gear, but Arden finds that unlikely. That seems more like a final test to her. “Strength or combat,” Arden replies confidently. It doesn’t show on her face or sound in her voice, but it’s there.

“And?” Teagan prompts briefly before digging back into her breakfast.

“Defense and uncertain,” Arden advises. “Don’t be tempted to attack first. Stay on defense for a majority of the fight, but get a few good blows in. Maybe knock your opponent down once or twice. Don’t show that you know exactly what you’re doing.” The girls nod, and more cadets begin filing in, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. The trio is silent for the rest of breakfast, eating in peace, until Shadis barges in.

“Training begins at nine sharp, maggots!” He screams, voice echoing over everyone else’s and making them fall silent. “Don’t be late—or it’s the stables for you!” The door slams shut, and Shadis is gone. Gradually, the volume level rises again.

“Well then,” Calla sniffs regally. She stands to return her plate and cutlery, Arden and Teagan following suit. When they’ve done that, the three report to the training field and stand at attention, single file. They don’t say a word, though Teagan hums for a little before Shadis shows up. He eyes them and makes a note. Nine o’clock approaches quickly, and with it, the rest of the cadets. They stand at attention, too, even though Arden is fairly positive it isn’t mandatory at this point.

“About damn time!” Shadis bellows. “Today you will be learning hand-to-hand combat. Your goal is to knock your opponent to the ground. Find a partner—if I have to assign them, you’ll get stable duty for a month!”

Arden turns to find a suitable opponent. She finds a girl about her height and weight, and approaches. “Arden,” she says, offering her hand to the girl. She’s got red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose, wide hazel eyes framed by thick lashes. She looks too innocent to be here in the Training Corps, but then, so are most cadets here. “Want to be partners?”

The girl nervously shakes it. “Sure,” she says, voice light and girlish. “My name is Millie.” Arden leads the way to a spot where they can fight. She doesn’t want Calla, Teagan, and herself to be seen together constantly. If that happens, they will be split up on purpose. She sees Calla get accosted by a tall boy with too-long, honey blonde hair, and Teagan bounces away with a boy as well. _The boy from dinner_ , Arden realizes. “Um,” Millie interrupts shyly. “I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

Arden resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Try to knock me down,” she says. “They don’t care how you do it.” Uncertain, Millie pulls herself into a shaky fighting stance, and Arden mimics her. She purposely slacks her spine and keeps her feet too close to give her a good, strong balance. She waits for Millie, who is trying to gather the courage. It is painfully obvious when the girl is ready to attack, and she throws a punch at Arden’s face. Arden overcompensates, yanking her head back so far she might have given herself whiplash. The harsh movement throws her shoddy balance off, and her center of gravity shifts backwards, making her stumble.

Millie waits until Arden is standing straight again before throwing another punch, followed by another. Arden, on the other hand, is bored out of her mind. She’s never once found a fight boring before, but that’s exactly what this is. It’s not likely to get much better, either. She needs a real challenge, more than these recruits can give her. Even Teagan and Calla sometimes struggle to challenge her. Arden lets Millie push her backwards a few more steps, but then throws a light punch of her own as a distraction. When Millie goes to dodge, Arden pulls her other hand around and shoves the younger girl’s shoulder roughly, knocking her to the ground.

“I apologize,” Arden instantly says, holding a hand out. Millie takes it appreciatively, and Arden pulls the girl to her feet. They go again, and Arden takes pity on the girl and falls. She only falls three times in the course of fifteen minutes, all of them pity falls, whilst Millie falls nearly eight times.

Shadis stalks over, glaring at Arden. “Find a stronger partner.” Arden salutes and Shadis drags a muscular boy over, Millie meekly trading places.

The boy offers his hand. He has dark hair that falls over his forehead, strange-shaped dark eyes, and bronze skin. This is a boy used to hard work outside in the sun for hours on end, day after day. “Mark,” he says, Simple. She likes that.

She shakes his hand. “Arden,” she replies, shifting into her shaky stance again. Still, even her fight with Mark is terribly boring, and Arden finds herself slipping into a monotonous rinse and repeat cycle. Take a few hits, give a few, get knocked down, stand up, and start again. Eventually, just before their instructor calls it quits for lunch, Arden knocks Mark down on his butt.

She glances over at Shadis as he looks away from her and writes something down.

Lunch is uneventful, with most of the cadets tired and sore, patches of dust covering their clothes. Arden’s uniform is no better, something that bothers her. She’s lived for so long with the dirt, and now that she doesn’t have to every waking moment, it bothers her. Arden is completely fine, though she knows she probably has a decent bruise and her elbow is skinned. She can’t feel the injuries.

“I fought with this guy called Sean,” Teagan chatters brightly. “But by the fifth round, he told me to call him Jack. What about you, Calla?”

Calla sniffs. “His name is Felix, and he’s a shameless, disgusting flirt.” She is very obviously unimpressed with her former sparring partner. A small smile pulls at the corner of Arden’s mouth. “What about, you, Arden? I saw that your first partner could use some serious work.”

“Millie,” Arden informs her friends quietly. “And the second was Mark.” She doesn’t confirm nor deny skills, because they don’t matter. All that matters is them. She can’t stop them from following her to the Survey Corps, but she can make damn well sure that they can and will survive outside the Walls without her. When Shadis announces that lunch is over and they’re to start in on sets of laps, push-ups, sit-ups, and planks, until he says otherwise, Teagan stands and collects the plates to take back to the kitchen. Calla leads the way outside again, but Arden starts running first, setting the pace. Her friends don’t clump around her, as that would draw unnecessary attention to them, but they run at the same pace, struggle the same amount with the rest of the sets, and then repeat.

* * *

 

Keith Shadis sighs, staring into the candlelight as he makes notes of the recruits today. Some stand out, and the basic training won’t do them much good. Mark, Sean, Kenna, and Samaris are definitely near the top. Shay isn’t far behind. It’s far too early to get an appropriate reading for the top ten, but they will gradually make themselves known as they learn their strengths. It’s interesting, having an even mix of ten girls and ten boys after the others left. Twenty recruits is one of the smallest training regiments he has ever seen.

Keith shuffles through the reports, marking down score after score, making note after note, until he reaches the three girls. Arden Black, Teagan Marlow, and Calla Curtis. Erwin asked him to make special note of these three, but for the life of him, Keith can’t understand why. They showed a mediocre amount of skill and stamina, but there was a lot of work to be done if they wanted anywhere near the top ten.

 

_Arden Black, age 16_

_Older than most recruits. She is extremely calm and quiet. She completes tasks efficiently, but her skill leaves something to be desired. Combat is shaky at best. Fared okay against a girl her height, but as soon as partners were switched, started losing more and more. Stamina and strength is decent, but still needs work._

 

_Calla Curtis, age 16, Orvud District_

_Older than most recruits, from a high-class family. She is snobbish and smart. She completes tasks efficiently, though her skills in combat are weak and her stamina is decent. She lost nine times out of ten against a larger opponent, and struggled to keep up during laps._

 

_Teagan Marlow, age 16, Utopia District_

_Older than most recruits. Parents are deceased. She is positive and loud. She completes tasks efficiently, but her skills are mediocre at best. She spent most of her combat time talking, and when she did fight, she lost more times than not. Her stamina is okay, but her strength could use quite a bit of work._

 

The amount of words that he finds repeated in his notes between these three files disturbs Keith. He’s had recruits close in skillsets before, but the resemblance is uncanny. Their age is also something that confuses him. Most recruits sign up at twelve, thirteen at the latest. The fact that three girls, all the same age, have extremely similar skill sets rubs Keith the wrong way. He looks through the sign-ups, and finds their names on the same list. They all signed up at the station in Orvud District. Black declined to list a birthplace, but Marlow is from Utopia District, in Wall Rose. Unless the girl moved to Wall Sina to live with relatives, there should be no reason for her to sign up in Orvud.

“Interesting,” Keith murmurs to himself.

* * *

 

Arden wakes her friends up four hours before the sun rises. They’d crashed right after dinner, and Arden risked a few hours of sleep. “Follow me,” Arden whispers to them. Blindly, they put their boots on and follow Arden out the window. When they’re far enough away from the barracks, she continues, slightly louder. “We’ll meet every other day, depending on how the day’s training goes. We need to keep our skills sharp, because this training won’t do it.”

“Agreed,” Calla says vehemently. Arden isn’t stupid, nor is she a glutton for punishment. She knows that the human body needs a certain amount of sleep every night in order to function properly, and while she is used to depriving herself from it, her friends are not. At the same time, she will not let them get soft. She’s already planned on moving her training sessions around Shadis’s.

“We will practice no more than a couple of hours, but it will be the most grueling of your life,” Arden warns. She only feels comfortable talking in longer sentences around her best friends. “I will wake you up when it’s time to shower. Four laps at full-speed, twenty reps of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, one-minute planks, and then repeat as many times as possible before our two hours are up.”

The place Arden has chosen to practice is a clearing near the barracks, but far enough away that they won’t be caught. The area itself is pretty big, blocked off by a fence on two sides, the barracks on another, and a swathe of trees on the last. Teagan takes off immediately, sticking to the barriers that surround them. Calla groans, but follows suit, and Arden begins running as well. There isn’t any of the half-hearted bullshit from training. This is all raw power, and Arden quickly overtakes her friends. She feels the clean air filter through her lungs and pushes herself to go even faster.

“Show-off,” Teagan teases softly as Arden passes her for a third time, heading around to complete the final lap. Arden’s breathing is rough by the time she finishes her lap and moves to the center of the field to begin her push-ups. Arden makes sure her elbows hit the perfect angle every time, keeps her back straight. They pass quickly, and she moves into position for sit-ups. She plants her feet firmly, crosses her arms over her chest, and begins the reps. The squats are easy, but boring in Arden’s mind. She keeps her chest up and back straight and finishes quickly.

Planks, however, are something Arden _loves_. The pressure her endurance causes to hold the tight position for a minute means she is improving. They are what kept her standing at attention for so long that first night. Afterwards, her shoulders and back were tight, but she did it.

All too soon, her minute is up and Arden stands again to begin running. She feels the telltale uncomfortable sensation in her thighs and torso, but Arden keeps moving. She forgets that Teagan and Calla are trying to keep up, focused on pushing herself and getting everything done.

* * *

 

Samaris Larson is not a stranger to a military system. Her father is part of the Garrison, and he brought his training back. While others here in the Training Corps flounder under the strict rules, Samaris thrives. She knows how to spot a fellow soldier, so she isn’t surprised to hear the three sneaking out of the barracks. Samaris has had her eye on them since the first day, when they held their salute just like she had. Her father had warned— _ordered_ —her to place in top ten, and Samaris didn’t put up a fight.

Samaris saw the soldiers in them, and she saw them hiding their true skills. Why they don’t want to place top ten is beyond her, and she doesn’t really care. They’re less of a problem for her, then. Quietly, Samaris slides out of her bunk and walks over to the open window. She can’t see much through the darkness, but the small amount of moonlight illuminates three figures doing various exercises.

One of them stops, and then begins pushing the other two harder and harder. It’s scary just how similar this girl is to her Father, Samaris notes. The other two don’t complain one bit, running faster when told, fixing posture when ordered. It’s like they’re used to taking orders from her, like they asked her for this. From the odd angle of the window, Samaris can’t see over half of what is happening, but she can hear everything being said.

“No, Teagan, ninety-degree angle,” the one snaps harshly. “Calla, pick your feet up and move _faster_. In through your nose, out through your mouth, the both of you. Sit up all the way, Teagan—you know doing it wrong gets you nowhere.”

Samaris listens for a few more moments, then gives up and goes back to her bunk. She’ll still keep her eye on them, just in case they change their minds and go for top ten, but she thinks it’s unlikely. Whatever their reasons, they’re not her problem until they make it clear they are.

They come back after a while and the window is shut. They climb into bed without a word, and Samaris falls asleep.


	4. Calm and Collected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For their safety in today's training, Arden decides that she, Calla, and Teagan need to stay calm and collected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is by no means my own creation. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that might surface.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and criticisms.

Arden’s body is stiff when she shakes herself awake with the rising sun. Always stiff, never sore. She blinks the sleep from her eyes and slides out of her bunk. Calla and Teagan are fast asleep, backs pressed against one another just like she taught. Never have your back to the open, always keep it to someone you trust. It’s how she and Teagan slept before meeting Calla, but she insisted the two of them do it. Anything to keep them safer.

Though she keeps her face hard, she softens her voice as she shakes Calla’s shoulder. “It’s time to wake up,” she says. Calla groans, but then slowly begins to move. “Come on,” Arden coaxes. “The shower will help.” She helps her friends stand, and then helps them gather their things before picking up her freshly-cleaned uniform and heading to the showers. Arden, just like before, scrubs her body and hair clean before getting out. She dries herself off and dresses, putting on the 3DMG harness much faster than yesterday, and then braids her hair into twintails.

Teagan gets out of the shower first, wincing as she dries off and sits to pull her pants on. While she dresses, Arden brushes out her long brown hair, the motion of it a source of comfort for Arden. She separates the thick curtain in half and begins on the left, pulling the hair up to braid it at an angle and twisting it into a bun. Arden repeats her motions on the other side, and Teagan starts in on her harness. Calla emerges, face speaking leagues of her discomfort, but her voice is silent. There was a time that Calla would have complained vehemently at the pain Arden’s training regime put her in, but that time has long passed. She dries herself off and Arden motions for her to sit, which she does. Arden combs through Calla’s golden tresses and separates the top half from the bottom half. She ties the top half out of the way and sets about braiding the bottom half up Calla’s skull until she can join the two parts back into one single bun on the top of her head. She ties the ribbon into a tight bow around the bun. That hair ribbon is the only thing of luxury that Calla took from her former life.

Arden straightens some of Teagan’s straps and tightens a buckle on Calla’s harness before dropping their sleepclothes into the laundry chute and their dirty towels in a different one before leading the way back to the barracks to retrieve their boots. Last night, after her practice session, Arden made sure to polish the three pairs of boots until she could practically see herself in them. It was her own form of apology for pushing them so hard, but she will never tell them that. Arden told them that, when they wanted to learn, they would follow everything she said without question. She isn’t preparing them to fight, she’s preparing them to _survive_.

As they’re walking down the hallway, one of the girls stops them. She has black hair and unnaturally bright blue eyes. Thinking back to the first day, Arden skims through the knowledge that she stored unconsciously. Arden never forgets a face, and she made sure to get a good look at everyone in the wagons to the training field. Samaris Larson. That’s her name.

“Morning,” Samaris says curtly as she passes. “Hot water still available?”

“Sure is,” Teagan chirps, smiling brightly. Arden doesn’t have to turn around to know that her oldest friend is smiling. Samaris nods and turns away. Arden never stops walking. When they get back to the barracks, the other girls are just starting to wake up, complaining about being sore and tired. Arden slides into her boots without sitting down, shifting around until the straps from the 3DMG harness sit correctly under her feet so she can control them without issue. She knows the other two have noticed the state of their boots, but they don’t say anything, and within three minutes, they’re on their way to the canteen.

“Sit,” Arden orders quietly. Calla slumps onto her bench without hesitation. Teagan glances at Arden briefly, questioning, but sits without vocalizing those questions. Arden walks to the kitchen, where the cooks smile at her. She’s gotten into the habit of cleaning the dishes after dinner, something they greatly appreciate.

“Good morning, Arden,” Ida says with a smile.

“Good morning, Ida,” Arden replies, keeping her voice polite, but still quiet. “Could I possibly get two plates for my friends?” As a rule to keep cadets from stealing, everyone is supposed to get their own plates. Honestly, Arden doesn’t expect to be given an exception, but Ida glances at Teagan and Calla’s slumped forms and nods.

“Absolutely, hon,” the woman says. “Just keep it quiet, okay? Training is tough around here, I get it. Keep your chin up, hon, and stay strong.”

Arden is confused by the statement. She realizes the woman is trying to comfort her, and pushes a small, somewhat cold smile onto her face as she takes the three plates skillfully. “Thank you,” Arden says. “For everything.” Ada smiles and waves her along. Arden takes the food back to her table and sits one down in front of each of them before sitting herself. They don’t talk for a couple of minutes as the rest of the cadets file in, moaning and groaning.

“Today is likely horseback riding,” Arden says. “Calla?” Arden never got the chance to learn how to ride horseback in her childhood, but Calla’s wealthier lifestyle would have put her around the creatures often. Even if she didn’t ride them, she has insight to their behaviors.

Calla sighs and swallows. “I never learned how to ride,” she starts. “My Father insisted it wasn’t ladylike. However, the stablehands told me that the horses can sense your distress and will put them on edge, so you must stay calm. Stay in control.”

Arden nods. “Calm and collected,” she advises her friends, who nod. Arden eats in silence. Horseback riding is not very important in terms of the Garrison and the Military Police, but for those who do not make it into the top ten and are forced to the Scout Regiment, where horses are very important, they give basic training. Any further training will be given with the Survey Corps.

* * *

 

“Pick a horse wisely,” Shadis shouts as the recruits stare at the field filled with horses milling about. “They will follow you to your regiments. You might find them the only thing that will keep you alive.” Arden doesn’t know how she is supposed to choose a horse—they’re just animals. She keeps her eye on Calla as the girl enters the field, moving carefully and calmly through the herd. Arden notes that if she gets near the back end of one, she touches the horse.

 _She’s letting the horse know she’s there,_ Arden realizes. Smart. If a horse were to get spooked by her sudden appearance, they might kick at her. The other recruits are talking and laughing, but Arden stays silent, scanning the field. Teagan is following Calla’s example, as she should.

That’s when Arden sees it: the pitch black horse standing away from the herd, almost as if watching over them. With calm, collected steps, Arden moves over to it. The horse eyes her suspiciously, but Arden meets it’s gaze coolly. She raises a steady hand and offers the horse sugarcubes, which have been passed to the cadets in hopes they’ll figure out what to do. Out of instinct, Arden keeps her palm flat. The horse sniffs, nickers, and takes the offered treats. Arden resists the urge to grimace at the horse saliva on her hand. After the thing has finished crunching on the sugar cubes, it touches its nose to her palm, and she strokes the softness.

A stablehand nearby notices the interaction and approaches. “That’s Spirit,” he informs her. “He’s the leader of the herd. Never lets any of the new cadets near him, though. You must be special.”

 _Spirit_. The name is strong, just like he is. Just like her. Spirit lowers his head to look at her with one big blue eye. _We’re a lot alike, fella._ “Then I think he’s chosen his rider,” Arden says quietly, staring back.

“I think so,” the man says. He disappears and returns with several items. He labels each part, and then shows her how to properly put each one on. Arden watches carefully, keeping track of each movement and storing each instruction for later use. She’s almost positive that she will not be getting another crash course. After Spirit has the gear on, the man drags a crate around. “This is just to help you reach the stirrup, okay?” Arden climbs up onto the crate without question. “Grab the saddle horn, put your left foot in the stirrup, and swing your right leg over.”

Arden does as she’s told and hoists herself up into the saddle. Even though the stablehand has a tight grip on the reins, Spirit doesn’t move a muscle. _But I won’t always have the crate_ , she thinks, looking around. _And I won’t always be somewhere with fences to climb. I’ll have to devise a system to get up._

“I’m going to take you into the larger pasture,” the man says. “So you two can get a feel for one another. When you want him to move, nudge him in the sides with your heels and click your tongue. He’ll try to fight you, to test you, but don’t let him win.” Arden nods, but he can’t see it because his back is to her. He leads Spirit through another gate and into a larger pasture. It takes Arden a couple of moments to accustom her body to the strange, choppy motion. “You know, I’ve never seen him this calm. Oh, and if you want to slow down, pull back firmly on the reins and keep your elbows close to your body. If you want to stop, do the same thing and tell him ‘ho,’ okay? To get him to gallop, flick the reins and click your tongue.”

“Okay,” Arden says. She isn’t nervous, and doesn’t feel a need to be. If she falls, she will fall. She’ll take note of the impact points and report to the infirmary to get them checked. The man lets go and backs away, signalling that it’s all on her now. Remembering his lesson, she digs her heels into his sides and clicks her tongue. Nothing. Not even an ear twitch. Arden doesn’t panic—Spirit is testing her. So, she digs her heels in a bit harder and clicks her tongue again. This time, Spirit snorts and sets off at a slow walk. Unbothered, Arden gets a feel for using the reins to steer him, leading him towards the fence. For nearly ten minutes, they just walk.

Along the way, Spirit tries to wander off in a different direction—usually opposite to the one Arden wants to go—and she holds him firmly to _her_ course. When he no longer fights her, she thinks it’s time to try a gallop. Running from titans is not the time she wants to learn how to hold on to a galloping horse. “Okay, fella,” she says calmly. Spirit’s ears turn back to her, as if listening. “We’re going to try a gallop now.” Although an animal, Arden knows that horses are very intelligent. Besides, the Scout Regiment trained these horses specially for expeditions. They don’t spook easily.

Spirit nickers again, as if acknowledging her words.

 _It’s now or never_ , Arden thinks. She flicks the reins and clicks her tongue, and Spirit takes off at full speed. Her thighs automatically tighten around his sides and she clutches the reins so hard the blood pulls away from her knuckles. The wind in her eyes is so fierce that she leans down more towards the curve of his neck, arching her back. If anything, it makes Spirit move even faster. Once the initial shock of the speed has worn off, Arden tries guiding him in different directions like when they were walking. Spirit follows without hesitation.

* * *

 

Keith watches Black on her horse and waves the stable manager over. “Which horse is that girl riding?” He asks gruffly so he can make note of it in her report. Black is the first one to choose her horse, and is already galloping across the far pasture like she was born for it.

The stable manager squints. “Looks like it’s Spirit, the leader of the herd,” he says after a few seconds. “Odd. He’s been here for the last two horse rotations and refuses to let any new recruits ride him. He hardly lets _us_ ride him. I don’t know what she did, but she certainly didn’t choose that horse. _He_ chose _her_. Do you want his papers?” Keith nods and waves the man off before he writes the horse down on Black’s file.

Keith is no stranger to horses. He knows that horses need riders with similar personalities. A few minutes later, the stable manager returns with Spirit’s papers. His health is excellent. Strong, fiercely protective, and loyal to a fault. From what he’s seen of Black, the personalities seem to match. Spirit has been on two expeditions but was sent back after his former rider perished. Keith marks down his findings and gives the horse’s papers back.

Black expertly pulls Spirit back down to a trot, and then to a walk. At that point, she guides him over to a water trough and lets him drink. Another pair is being led into the larger pasture now, and Keith flips to Curtis’s file. This one he isn’t surprised about, and he actually expected her to be the first one in that pasture. She lived in a well-off family who owns horses. She has to know a thing or two. Not long after, Marlow is in the far pasture too, followed by Larson, Cooke, and McLoughlin.

* * *

 

They are to spend the rest of the day with their horses, so after lunch, Arden finds the stables. She moves through the building, Calla on her left and Teagan on her right, each one of them looking for their horse. “Here’s Hadley,” Calla says, stopping in front of a stall. Inside is a beautiful brown horse with brown eyes and a white stripe on her nose. “She’s a brat, but she’s smart.” Calla strokes Hadley’s nose when it is offered.

“Ooh!” Teagan exclaims. “Dash is right here! He followed me around the whole pasture and wouldn’t leave me alone. Figured he’d at least come back for me, if you know what I mean.” Dash is a tan horse with white around his legs, eyes big and brown. He nickers and nudges affectionately at the back of Teagan’s head.

A few stalls down, and Arden finds Spirit. “This is Spirit,” she tells her friends. “And he chose me.” Spirit bends his neck down over the stall door to look at her with one eye, and she strokes the smooth hair on his neck. Arden offers him some more sugarcubes and then sets off in search of the tack room, where his saddle and bridle are. The tack is a lot heavier than Arden originally expected it to be, and she also finds the materials to wax and care for the tack. Arden makes a mental note to wax everything at the end of the day.

When she returns to Spirit’s stall, he backs away and allows her to drape the blanket, saddle, and bridle over the door before entering. “Will you hold still for me, fella?” She asks. She doesn’t really expect him to, but he stands perfectly still as she drapes the blanket over his back. The height difference between the two is most annoying, and Arden decides she needs to work out a system to mount him without help. She manages to get the saddle on his back and tighten the strap around his midsection. She ties it correctly, like the stablehand had shown her, to prevent the saddle from coming loose and sliding off. She tucks the tie under the flap for her stirrups, which have already been adjusted to her height.

Arden picks up the bridle, holding the metal bit in her hand. With a flat palm, she offers it to Spirit, who begrudgingly takes it after a moment. “I understand, Spirit,” Arden tells him. And she does. She wouldn’t want someone controlling her with a bit in her mouth. She attempts to pull the rest of the bridle back over his head and ears, but she’s too short. After a couple minutes of watching her struggle, Spirit bends his neck down so she can reach easier. “Thank you.” Arden doesn’t know if he understands her, but he whinnies softly.

“Now how do I get on you, fella?” She asks, but the question is mostly to herself. While she tries to find an answer, Arden takes the reins firmly in one hand and pushes the door to his stall open, leading him out and towards the pasture. She passes her friends, who are still struggling with tacking up their horses.

Once out in the pasture, Arden tosses the reins over Spirit’s head and back, still keeping one hand on them. She tries to get her left foot into the stirrup, but she’s just too short to get a good balance and she doesn’t have a grip on anything to help pull herself up. In the middle of titan-infested country, this will not do. She’ll get trampled if she ever has to get off of Spirit.

That’s when Spirit does something. At first, Arden doesn’t quite understand. He lifts his left foreleg, curling his hoof backwards. Arden keeps the frown of her face, but questions whether Spirit’s hoof is okay. When he puts it down and does it again, nickering, she looks up to see him looking back at her expectantly. Arden begins to put two and two together and carefully puts her left foot on the little step Spirit has made with his leg. With the height boost, Arden is able to grip the saddle enough to swing her right leg over his back and then put her feet into the stirrups.

“Clever, fella,” Arden praises, his ears turning back to listen. She knows from the stable hands that he’s been on expeditions outside the Walls before, and that his last rider was fairly short, too. She must have trained him to do this trick.

* * *

 

Arden skips extra training that night. She knows that Teagan and Calla need to catch up on sleep, and that they’ll be doing something entirely foreign to them tomorrow that they need their wits for. Arden knows that she can’t teach them how to maneuver. She barely knows how to do it herself, but if they’re going to join the Scouting Regiment, they all had better master it.

Still, Arden finds herself laying awake all night, as she usually does. For her, sleeping is a luxury and she only does it when she thinks she’ll need it the next day. She’s gone a full week with no sleep before. It’s not easy, and she doesn’t like how it turns her sluggish. She’s careful to get a certain amount of hours per week, but the rest of her time is spent divising new strategies and watching over Calla and Teagan. She knows they’ll move onto strategy and orientation at some point this week, but she taught her friends how to navigate from one side of Wall Maria to the other without issue. If you can find north, and you know where your destination is, you can always find your way.

Arden sighs softly. Four long years of training lay ahead of her. Four long years of hiding her talents, of hiding her true strength. It’s safer this way, though. She and her friends won’t be targets, won’t be coveted like weapons. If they’re careful—and they always are—Arden predicts they can hide themselves until their first expedition. Arden knows that keeping up the charade in a situation as dangerous as an expedition is will likely result in one, if not all of them dying unnecessarily. She won’t allow that to happen. She knows she won’t always be there to protect them—but she’ll make sure they can defend themselves, and that they won’t die without a fight.


	5. Graduation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been four long years, but the Trio has finally reached the end of training.
> 
> (And we get to see Arden relax the slightest little bit.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is by no means my own. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that appear.

Arden watches impassively from the back of the group. Teagan is on her right, and Calla is on her left. Instructor Raban, who took charge of their 3DMG training, stands in front of them with Shadis and their classroom instructor, Hardwin. “Cadets of the One-Hundred and Second Corps,” Raban shouts. “You have all spent four years of training for one moment: and that is this moment. You have all graduated. We show now name the top ten cadets.”

Shadis steps forward and reads through a list. “Mark Fischbach,” he begins, and Arden watches him step forward. “Samaris Larson. Sean McLoughlin. Makenna Cooke. Shay Milligan. Abagail Hawk. Sofia First. Killian Jones. Jason Bourne. Micha Waldrup.”

The list is unsurprising—at least in Arden’s mind. There’s a tap on her shoulder, and she turns to see Millie smiling up at her. “That should be you three,” the girl whispers. It’s no secret among the 102nd Cadet Training Corps that Arden, Teagan, and Calla purposely slacked off during training. No one knew why, of course, and the information never made it to the instructors, but they’ve managed their goal.

Arden is ranked eleventh. Teagan has taken twelfth. Calla placed thirteenth. They are exactly in the middle of the pack: skilled enough to be useful, but not skilled enough to be an asset.

“Aw, thanks, Millie,” Teagan whispers back, giving the younger girl a slight hug. “But we’re really not that good.” Arden knows that Millie placed last, just after Calla’s headache Felix.

“Do you have heart?” Raban shouts, gathering everyone’s attention again.

Arden salutes. “Sir!” She shouts with everyone else.

“Cadets of the One-Hundred and Second Training Regiment, you now have three options in front of you: the Garrison Regiment, whose job is to reinforce the Walls! The Scout Regiment, who rides out into titan country to take back what was once ours! And the MP Regiment maintain law and order under His Royal Majesty!” Arden rolls her eyes. “Those cadets eligible for this regiment have already been named. One by one, we will call your name and you shall pledge yourself to a regiment.”

Arden closes her eyes and listens. Bert Allen, the first on the list, chooses the Garrison. Millie Ash follows him. “Arden Black!”

Arden salutes, eyes still closed. “I pledge my life to the Scout Regiment, Sir!” There’s a collective breath around the room. She is the first to pledge to the Survey Corps, but she knows she will not be the last. The silence doesn’t last for long, and Jason Bourne pledges to the Military Police. So does Makenna Cooke.

“Calla Curtis!”

Her eyes are still closed, but Arden can feel Calla shift to salute. “I pledge my life to the Scout Regiment, Sir!” Her voice is strong and unwavering, and Arden doesn’t need her eyes to feel the woman’s determination. They’re all nineteen now—having turned so somewhere along the past year—and that makes them the oldest of the 102nd. Sofia First joins the Military Police. Mark Fischbach, though he placed first, pledges to the Survey Corps as well. Abagail Hawk joins the Military Police, and Felix Holt joins the Garrison. Daniel and Yazi Howell, the twins, join the Garrison. Killian Jones pledges to the Military Police. Samaris Larson and Sean McLoughlin, second and third respectively, pledge to the Survey Corps as well. Phillip Lester and Kyle Mackey join the Garrison.

“Teagan Marlow!”

“Sir, I pledge my life to the Scout Regiment,” Teagan calls, saluting smartly. And finally, the last two cadets, Shay Milligan and Micha Waldrup, join the Military Police. Quickly, Arden does the math in her head. Seven cadets will be going to the Military Police, seven will be going to the Garrison, and six will be travelling to to the Survey Corps. That’s three more than Arden expected—and they’re the top three in the 102nd Regiment.

They are dismissed, and Mark wanders over to Arden with Samaris and Sean—Jack—on his tail. “All things considering,” he says with a conspiratorial wink. “I figured if you three were joining up, then the Survey Corps must have something to offer.”

Samaris offers a sly smile. “It’s the only way I can get away from my Dad,” she says. “But it’s for a good cause, so I don’t mind.”

Jack grins and ruffles Samaris’s black hair. “Yeah, it’s not because Mark and I were going at all,” he snickers. “Nice try, Sam!” Sam pouts at him. Like Arden and her friends, Mark, Jack, and Samaris have been close since day one, but Arden knows that they don’t have a history outside training like she, Calla, and Teagan do.

Shadis approaches them, eyes narrowed at Arden because she’s the ringleader and he knows it. He can’t prove it, because if anyone were to make the first move among the Scout Regiment recruits, Arden would let Mark or Sam take the lead. “You’ll spend one more night in the barracks,” he informs them. “Take anything you don’t want thrown out—and leave your jackets. You’ll be presented with new ones in two days. Your horses and belongings will be sent ahead to your chosen regiment tomorrow whilst you complete your final task as a trainee.”

Sam is the first to salute, and Arden is careful to follow her. Teagan and Calla salute after Arden, and Jack and Mark follow suit. “Yes, Sir,” Sam says. Shadis glares at Arden one last time before turning on his heel and stalking away.

“Oi, Sam,” Jack says. “What’s our final task?” It is common knowledge that Sam’s father is part of the Garrison, so she knows everything that comes with training.

Sam gives Jack a wry smile. “It is our honor to complete the final duty as trainees by cleaning the guns mounted on top of Wall Maria,” she replies. “In the sun. All day.” Jack’s subsequent groan causes Mark and Teagan to laugh. Sam joins in after a moment, and Calla chuckles a little.

They walk back to the barracks as a group, the top three horsing around a little ways ahead of Arden, Calla, and Teagan. “Well, we did it,” Calla sighs.  
“Sure did,” Teagan chirps. “Except I’m the best, because I’m right in the middle, so ha! In your face, Calla!” The banter is old, but no less amusing for Arden. The two constantly compete to see who can follow her orders the best. Calla shoots Teagan a withering glare, who sticks out her tongue in response.

“How funny, very mature, Teagan,” Calla sneers. “It’s a miracle they believed you when you said you were sixteen, you know.” Teagan’s fist darts out to deliver a quick jab at Calla’s shoulder. Calla squeaks adorably in protest, ice-blue eyes promising murder. Teagan squeals and takes off running, shoving between Mark and Jack and all but knocking them to the ground.

“Get back here!” Calla screams after her, beginning to run as well. “Teagan Marlow, I said get back here, you demon!” She blows past Jack and Mark too, and this time, they do fall down. Sam is bent over, clutching her stomach because she is laughing too hard.

“Oh my God,” she breathes out after a minute, turning to look at Arden as she approaches calmly. “Now I see why you keep them on a chain. They’re hilarious!”

“Yeah,” Arden agrees with a small, fond smile. “They are.” She helps Jack to his feet, and then Mark, before they split off to go to their own building. Any type of fraternization is forbidden and can result in the trainee getting kicked out. Arden and Sam walk into their building and into the room, where Calla is sitting triumphantly on top of Teagan, who is trying to free herself. Makenna is seated on her bunk, brushing through her hair and watching the free show. Shay is on the bunk below her, passed out.

“Hey, free entertainment,” Sam comments, heading for her bunk to gather up her things and change. Arden sidesteps around the mass of tangled limbs on the floor and begins changing herself. She takes off her jacket and hangs it up. Tomorrow will be the last day that she ever wears it, such a strange thought. Arden unbuckles her harness and hangs it up as well to keep it from getting tangled and toes off her boots, setting them aside to polish. As she unbuttons her shirt, she turns to observe her friends. Teagan is now on top of Calla, pinning the golden-haired woman on her stomach by holding her arm to her back.

“Come on, Calla,” Arden scolds gently, putting her shirt on their bunk. “You can get out of that easily.”

“Hey!” Teagan whines. “I thought you were on my side!”

“As if!” Calla grunts, twisting her body to the left and dislodging the woman on top of her. Arden pulls on her cotton sleepshirt before taking off her pants and changing onto her cotton sleepshorts. Millie and Sofia walk in, glance at the mock fight, and continue on. Arden takes her uniform over to the laundry chute and tosses it down before walking back and climbing back up to her bunk.

“Get her sides, Teagan.” Amused, Arden watches the brunette lunge for Calla’s sides to tickle. Calla straight up squeaks like a mouse, blue eyes going wide with shock and she instantly begins trying to bat Teagan’s hands away.

“Unhand me, you fiend!” Calla shouts between peals of laughter. “How dare you touch me in such a way! I will have your head for this, do you hear me? Let go this _instant_!” Everyone in the room is laughing now, save for Arden, but she has a small, amused smile on her face. Abagail and Yazi, the last two girls, walk inside to complete chaos. By now, Calla has squirmed free and grabbed the closest pillow, whirling around and beating Teagan with it savagely. Teagan splutters and grabs for a pillow of her own, thwacking Calla across the face. In response, Calla chucks her pillow with all her might, but Teagan ducks at the last minute and it hits Sam in the back of the head.

The black-haired girl slowly turns around. “Oh, it’s on!”

Arden watches as slowly, one-by-one, the rest of the girls join in on the savage pillow fight. After awhile, Arden gets bored watching, so she takes the time to pack her belongings into a bag that she had been given. She doesn’t have many. She neatly folds her two sets of casual clothing, consisting of a pair of skintight pants, a faded blue tunic shirt, a deep blue skirt that reaches her ankles, and a white blouse. She also adds her one pair of leather ankle boots to the bag, followed by her small collection of books.

Over the past three years, Ida and the rest of the kitchen staff have made it their goal to provide Arden with as many books as possible. Growing up, Arden hardly ever got the chance to read, although it’s certainly something that she enjoys. She now has a number of different genres. Some fiction, some fantasy, some educational. Arden has read every single one of them except for one, which Ida bequeathed to her that night at dinner.

Setting that book aside, Arden carefully arranges her leather-bound treasures in the bag so that none of them get damaged during transport. If she were being honest with herself, she would prefer to move them herself. She’s had so few material items that she actually cares for in her life, and part of her fears placing them in someone else’s hands. They don’t understand the value of a few articles of clothes and a handful of books like she does. They won’t handle them with care, or be careful not to wrinkle the clothes. The thought distresses Arden to some small degree, but she quickly pushes the feeling down. As long as they aren’t torn or dirtied, everything should be okay.

 _And if they aren’t_ , Arden thinks. _Someone will be paying dearly_. Arden steps aside to avoid a rogue pillow attack. The feather-filled case smacks into the post of the bunk, and Yazi runs off, squealing in delight. The girl is usually quiet, the complete opposite of her twin brother, Daniel, so to see her enjoying herself so freely is nice for a change. Once Arden is done with her belongings, she hangs the bag off the post and climbs up to her bunk, where her newest book waits. With a glance at the chaos-filled room to ensure that it won’t dying down for quite awhile, she settles down to begin reading.

After an hour or so, she marks her page and slips the book into her bag. “Okay, you two,” she calls softly. “Give it up.”

“Not until Calla apologizes!” Teagan yelps, dodging Shay’s well-aimed pillow. Makenna, Millie, Abagail, and Sofia have abandoned the fight. Currently, Teagan is facing off with Shay and Yazi, whilst Calla is having a one-on-one with Sam.

“Why should I be sorry?” Calla huffs, attacking Sam’s legs. “She was the one gloating. And she punched me first!” Yazi is hit in the face and gives up, taking her pillow and retreating back to her bunk over Sofia’s sleeping form.

“Now,” Arden adds, voice growing harder. Shay smacks Teagan one last time before slipping away, and Sam shakes Calla’s hand. Defeated, the two slink back to their bunks and begin changing. Within a couple of minutes, they’ve settled down entirely.

 _Tonight is a good night_ , Arden thinks, sliding her legs underneath the thin cotton blanket. They made it through training. They’re going to join the Survey Corps, where they can finally find their way to true freedom. With that thought in mind, Arden closes her eyes and lets herself slip into deep, comfortable sleep.

* * *

 

The first thing Erwin Smith is confronted with in the morning is a list of the new recruits. This training regiment is on the smaller side, which means his selection is significantly smaller. _Not that it’s ever large to begin with_ , he thinks with a sigh. The first file is for a kid name Mark Fischbach. He’s ranked first among the 102nd, which is surprising. Erwin hardly ever sees top recruits here in the Scout Regiment. The next is Sean McLoughlin, who ranked third, and Samaris Larson, who ranked second.

 _This is preposterous_. Erwin can’t wrap his mind around the fact that he has the top three recruits joining his branch. It’s almost unheard of. Those who are able join the Military Police to live—but he’s certainly not complaining. Maybe Levi will get off his back about asking for competent recruits to add to his squad now. There are only three reports left, and the next one Erwin picks up is Calla Curtis. Surprisingly, she ranked thirteenth. He expected her to rank higher than that. Average scores across the board. Teagan Marlow, ranked twelfth, has pretty much the same report. Arden Black, eleventh, is only there for her higher marks in horseback riding and maneuver gear, but still very much as average as the other two.

Even still, his lingering suspicions still nag at the back of his mind. Erwin isn’t sure why, because the results are right in front of  him. No matter—things need to be done. Erwin stands and moves to the cabinet where he keeps housing information. He always has rooms free, of course, but that leaves the question of roommates. Two boys and four girls—each room comfortably holds four. Realistically, each one could have their own room with no issue.

“What to do…” Erwin mutters. He always has this problem with new recruits. Personally, he doesn’t care about sexual relations, so there’s not an issue with that. However, feelings tend to get messy in this line of work, and distractions can be deadly. The veterans know this, of course, and even though the new recruits might suspect, they never realize until it’s too late.

He glances at the clock. They’ll be cleaning the guns on Wall Maria by now, and their belongings will be arriving any moment. He closes the cabinet and begins making his way through the compound, heading to the front where the wagon and train of horses will be dropped off. As he walks, he thinks. He’ll offer two rooms, and let the six split themselves up however they see fit.

Officer Christian is already in place, waiting for the wagon that is just down the road. He salutes when Erwin approaches, but Erwin waves it off. “Have their belongings taken to the East wing,” he orders. “Leave them in one room, but when they get in tomorrow, tell them that the second is available. Room situations are theirs to deal with. Stable the horses.”

“Yes, Sir!” Officer Christian replies. Vaguely, Erwin wonders how they’ll choose to split themselves up. The wagon pulls up, and Officer Christian waves a few cadets over to help. Erwin signs for their belongings, and then looks at the horses. Curiously enough, one of them looks familiar. He walks over to the line of horses, stopping near a pure black one with blue eyes.

 _Spirit_. This horse has been here before. Erwin remembers it, because three years ago, it had belonged to a headstrong Squad Leader. Her name was Jaiden Phelps, and she died on an expedition. The horse carried the remains of her body all the way back to the walls, nearly getting itself killed a few times. After that, no one else could ride it. Even the stablehands struggled to care for the beast, and it was finally sent around on rotation back to the trainee camp. The last time Erwin saw this horse was when it nearly broke a kid’s ribs for getting too close.

Now, though, it stands perfectly still and calm, staring at him with a wise blue eye. “Officer,” Erwin calls to the driver. The man walks over. “Whose horse is this?”

The man flips through his clipboard. “Well, that horse is Spirit,” he says first, still flipping. “And this isn’t the first time he’s been here. Been at the trainee camp for the last two rotations, never let anyone ride him. Ah, here it is: Arden Black. Says here she approached him and he didn’t immediately kick. Even let the stablehand put the tack on without issue, and held perfectly still while she got on. The two were galloping within fifteen minutes.”

Erwin glances at the horse again and nods. “Thank you,” he says. “You’re dismissed.” The officer nods and walks away again. Christian moves back to unhook the train of horses before leading them off towards the stables.

Jaiden Phelps cared for that horse since it was a foal. It doted on her and was extremely loyal. She was short, like Arden Black, so she taught him to give her a boost up into the saddle. Jaiden was loud, confident, and sometimes quick to violence, but she cared for those in her squad and was extremely protective. From what Black’s report says, she’s quiet, compliant, and placid, but she shows a strong connection with Teagan Marlow and Calla Curtis. The three were inseparable, and she seemed to watch over them with extreme caution.

The differences are obvious, but so are the similarities.

Things just keep getting stranger.


	6. Scout Regiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graduation has passed, and so must Arden, Teagan, and Calla pass into the next part of their lives: the Scout Regiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that might surface.

The wagon ride is bumpy and loud. Mark, Jack, Sam, and Teagan are singing some sort of song at the top of their lungs, the picture-perfect image of carelessness. Calla is glaring at the four from her place next to Arden. She’d given up on using her hands to cover her ears half an hour ago. Arden, unperturbed, turns the page in her book. One of the wheels jerks, Arden’s body following the motion, but she simply rights herself and continues on without issue.

This book is bigger than all the others, nearing seven hundred pages. She’s only reached two-hundred twelve. The genre was one that she’d been a little leery of at first—romance was something that she didn’t understand, and usually disgusted her.

_“Just give it a try, hon,” Ida says after seeing Arden’s uncertain face. “I promise, I found one that won’t make you sick. The rest of the girls chipped in, too. You went through those other books so fast we tried to find one that will keep you busy for awhile. Promise me you’ll read it?”_

_Arden looks from Ida’s hopeful face, to the closed kitchen door where she knows Helen, Carrie, Melissa, Heidi, Karen, and Jessica are eavesdropping, to the book in her hand. “I promise,” she says. “Thank you. All of you. For everything.”_

True to her word, Arden is reading it. Surprisingly, the romance bit isn’t overwhelming and bordering on gross. Really, it’s put behind the plot of the pair trying to find a way to save humanity, a fitting tale to her own. Realistically, Arden could care less about saving all of humanity—more about saving hers. She’s taken so many lives, though none of them innocent, and she feels as though she needs to atone by killing those who keep humanity trapped within walls.

“Okay! Shut it, all of you!” Calla snaps, voice loud enough to be heard over the other four. “We’re here!” They fall silent, and Arden looks up to see that Calla’s statement is correct. With a small, unnoticed frown, she marks her page and closes the book, reaching behind her to jam it up underneath her harness. It’s how she smuggled it through her task yesterday, so she’d have something to read during the night and the ride to the Scout Regiment. Of course, it only worked yesterday because she’d had her Trainee Corps jacket, so she can only hope that they are given their new jackets before anyone notices.

Arden can see three or four people waiting for them. As the wagon gets closer, faces become clearer and she can recognize two of the four: Commander Erwin Smith and his short companion from the first day. She still has no name for him.

Sam, following her gaze, says, “That’s Corporal Levi Ackerman. They call him _Humanity’s Strongest Soldier_ and he only took the position about six years ago. I met him once. He’s an asshole. A bigger one than my Father, anyway.”

“I could have told you that from his face first day,” Calla says haughtily. “I mean, did you see it? He looked like he’d just bit into a moldy lemon.” Mark and Jack snicker, but Arden frowns.

“Calla,” she scolds. “Don’t be brash. He’s our superior.” A subtle reminder, but Calla understands and her face falls into that of a puppy who has just gotten scolded.

“I apologize, Arden,” she mumbles. “It won’t happen again.”

Arden nods. “I accept your apology, Calla.” Adequate isn’t that much of a struggle to complete anymore. They’ve had four years to figure out the best ways to hide their true skill. Compliant, however, is difficult. Especially for Calla and and Arden. Calla is used to living with servants at her beck and call, only answering to her controlling Father and meek Mother. Even promising to follow Arden’s instructions without question is somewhat as a struggle. Arden hates being controlled. Call it a childhood hangover, but she refuses to be ordered around. She’s managed to remain placid and keep her mouth shut so far, but if this Corporal Levi pushes her, she might snap.

 _No_ , Arden reaffirms mentally. _I can’t put Teagan and Calla under that kind of scrutiny yet._ She’ll talk to them later tonight and explain that they may meet more resistance to their charade than in the Training Corps. Something about Corporal Levi Ackerman puts her on edge, like he can see straight past her mask and defenses and to her plans.

The wagon stops, and they all stand. One by one, with Sam in the lead, Arden bringing up the back, the cadets file down onto the ground and stand in a single-file line, saluting. Arden’s eyes glance at Commander Smith, before moving directly to Corporal Levi. For some reason, _Corporal Ackerman_ sounds wrong in her head. She won’t bring herself to say it—if she needs to address him for any reason, _Sir_ or _Corporal_ will have to work.

“Welcome, Cadets of the One-Hundred and Second Regiment,” Commander Smith says. Corporal Levi meets her gaze, eyes hard and face unreadable. “My name is Commander Erwin Smith, and it is my honor to present you with your very own Wings of Freedom. With these crests, you are no longer cadets, but Private Second-Classmen.”

One-by-one, a couple of officers hand out jackets emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom. Arden reaches out and takes the jacket offered to her. Without hesitation, and without breaking her gaze away from the Corporal, she slides it on.

“Today I want you to get a feel for this compound and those in it,” the Commander continues. “Officer Christian will show you around, and tomorrow you will be placed in a squad in accordance to your skill levels.”

Arden salutes with everyone else and calls, “Sir!” Although her focus is mainly on Corporal Levi, she doesn’t miss the curious look that Commander Smith shoots her way. It looks like she’ll have to be more careful than she originally thought around here.

“Dismissed.” Commander Smith, Corporal Levi, and a man Arden has no name for—who, oddly enough, she took note of him sniffing around the air, almost like the mangy mutts that ran wild when she was younger—take their leave, the last figure staying put. Arden deduces that this must be Officer Christian, their babysitter for the day.

“Follow me,” he orders. “We’ll start at the training grounds.” Arden stays at the back of the pack, observing her surroundings. She finds landmarks that she can use to navigate on her own, only half-focused on Officer Christian’s voice, storing the information without actively thinking about it. Here, their training grounds are split into five sectors, the fifth being for elite squads in a private area with a swathe of woods for 3DMG practice. Arden marks it as a possible place to continue her own practice sessions with Calla and Teagan. Maybe a bit risky, but it’s a start. From the training grounds they move into the compound, with the infirmary in the West wing, officers’ quarters in the North wing, the canteen in the South wing, and then finally, squad quarters in the East wing.

“All of your things are in that room,” Christian says, pointing to a closed door. “But the one right next to it is for your use, too. Sort yourselves out—I’m not your mother.” Arden takes a moment to try and figure out any motivations behind the odd instruction. It could be another test, but what answer would they want? “That concludes your tour. Stay out of trouble, and stay away from Corporal Levi. Newbies like you don’t tend to mix with him.” With that advice, if it can be called as such, he turns and walks away, headed for the officer’s quarters.

Arden watches the other five glance at each other, uncertain. Finally, she says, “Sam, if you want to room with us, we’re open to it.”

Sam glances at her, looks at the rooms, and then shakes her head with a small smile. “Thanks for the offer, Arden,” she says. “But someone’s gotta keep these two idiots out of trouble. I don’t mind.” With that figured out, they sort the bags. Arden, Calla, and Teagan move their things to the other room Christian had pointed out, and close the door. In privacy now, Arden removes her book from beneath her jacket and chooses the bunk close to the door, on the top. She feels comfortable in the air, where she can keep an eye on anyone who enters. There are two sets of bunks, a single window, a chest of drawers, and a single desk. Arden instantly claims the small, built-in shelf by placing her books on it.

“Could it be any smaller in here?” Calla complains, dropping her bag on the bunk near the window. “Aish, I can barely _breathe_.”

“It’s not that bad, Calla,” Teagan says, pulling open the middle drawer and beginning to pile her clothes into it. After a second, she thinks better of it and begins folding them neatly instead. Arden’s general rule is to keep everything clean and neat, because after years of living in the dirt, she can’t stand it. Besides, everyone involved seems to feel better crashing in a clean room after a long day. “Hey! There are extra uniforms in here already! Six sets.” One per day, including the ones they’re wearing at the moment, Arden notes. They’ll likely be on a laundry rotation, and will have to wash their own uniforms and bedding at least once a week.

“I wanted the middle drawer,” Calla snaps, but pushes Teagan aside to get to the bottom drawer and put her clothes away. Arden waits until they’ve finished before putting her meager articles of clothing into the top drawer. She stores her bag under her bunk and sighs.

“So, now what?” Teagan asks.

“We do as we were encouraged,” Arden replies without hesitation. “Explore—but don’t stay together. And steer clear of Corporal Levi and Commander Smith, if at all possible. They suspect there’s something up with the three of us, so less time together. We’ll probably be placed in separate squads—follow the plan. Adequate and compliant. Don’t cause a scene. We should only interact at meals.”

Calla shrugs. “As long as I don’t have to hang around Tee-Hee,” she says flippiantly.

“Hey!” Teagan protests. “That’s mean.” Arden smiles fondly at the two, who never fail to put her at ease.

“I’m going to the stables,” she informs them. “Spirit is probably restless by now.”

* * *

 

Levi sighs, staring at the report on his desk. He’s been trying to fill it out since Erwin pulled him outside to meet the brats. For some reason, his mind keeps wandering away, and he eventually decides that it’s time to take a walk and clear his mind.

Somehow, he finds himself outside. He sees four of the six new brats underneath a large tree in training sector two, laughing about something. Levi counts two girls, two boys, and one of them is part of the Trio. Marlow, he believes. It seems odd—her report labelled her as inseparable from Black and Curtis, so to see her nowhere near them sets something off in his brain. A couple minutes later, he finds Curtis sitting in training sector four, where there is a bench. She seems to be writing something, and Levi scoffs.

 _The spoiled Sina princess is writing in a diary_ , he realizes. _How cute_. Levi moves on, but Curtis’s separation from Marlow and Black still rubs him the wrong way. He finds two brats standing at the fence that borders the pasture for the horses and scowls. The new brats have the day off, but everyone else had best be working.

“Oi!” Levi snaps, striding over. “Don’t you idiots have something better to do than stand around all day? I can change that.”

They spin around in shock, making him glare even more. “Sorry, Corporal,” one says quickly. “We were just watching one of the new privates. She’s averaging about a mile a minute.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Levi growls. “Get back to work. _Now_.” They salute and hurry off, but Levi lingers to see what they were talking about. Right there, in front of him, is Black. She can’t be any taller than he is, but she’s riding a massive, pure-black horse like she was born for it. The horse is incredibly fast, and after a few rounds, Levi notes that they _are_ averaging about a mile a minute. Expertly, Black reins the horse down to a trot, and then to a walk, and then to a complete stop. Black jumps down off of the great beast, landing solidly on her feet, and leads the horse over to a water trough, stroking it’s neck while it drinks. Levi can see her mouth moving, but is too far away to read her lips or hear her.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Levi glances at Erwin. “She can do almost anything, and she goes straight for the horse. That horse used to belong to Squad Leader Phelps. Wouldn’t let anyone ride it after she died.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Spare me the bullshit,” he sighs. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m making my round to the new recruits,” Erwin replies. “Private, report!” The girl—woman—looks up and begins walking over immediately, completely comfortable with the massive horse following behind her without being led.

She salutes smartly, posture impeccable and face impassive. She doesn’t look at all ruffled, not even after getting off a horse running that fast. “Sir!” She greets. She doesn’t glance at Levi once, which irks and interests him at the same time. She had no problems with it earlier, and not even on the first day. If he didn’t know any better, he might think she’s scared of him. Even as he questions that, though, Levi realizes that Black isn’t looking at Erwin either. She’s staring directly between them, and Levi casually turns to see what is so interesting.

Curtis is standing some ten yards back, watching the altercation. Almost immediately, she turns and begins walking away, heading for the compound. Levi looks back at Black, who hasn’t moved other than to relax her stance at Erwin’s prompt. “What’s your name, Private?”

“Arden Black, Sir.” Black’s voice is blank and monotonous, just like her expression. She’s trying extra hard to appear unreachable—or maybe that’s just how she is. Like _he_ is.

Erwin smiles at her, and Levi sees the slightest change in the woman’s face—her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. _She doesn’t trust that smile_ , Levi realizes. _But is it because of Erwin, or because she doesn’t trust people who are nice to her_? “How are you getting along?”

“I don’t understand the question, Sir,” Black replies. It was a stupid fucking question, Levi acknowledges, because the woman hasn’t been here for more than three hours. The tour would have taken nearly two, depending on how arrogant Christian was and how thoroughly he actually instructed them. The way Black holds herself makes Levi doubt that she has many belongings, so putting them away wouldn’t have taken long. She’s probably spent the last forty-five minutes here with the horse.

* * *

 

Arden doesn’t feel safe. She feels cornered, and nervous. It may not show it, because she is careful to stay emotionless on the outside, but Arden has a distinct feeling that she needs to get ready to fight. She told Calla to leave, but she knows that Corporal Levi saw her. Arden can’t keep herself from tensing, but tries to keep it as inconspicuous as she can, so as to not raise suspicions. Suddenly, Spirit’s head appears over her shoulder, curving protectively around her. Automatically, Arden’s hand rises to stroke his neck.

The Commander changes tactics. “I knew this horse’s former rider, you know,” he says glibly, sounding for all the world like he’s just making casual conversation. Arden knows better. This is a man who rose through the ranks to become Commander. He’s smart, calculating, and there is a reason he is talking to her right now. She can only guess that he’ll try to corner Teagan and Calla next, and then possibly Sam, Jack, and Mark if only to keep up pretense. Calla will warn Teagan, and they have their orders. Right now, Arden needs to focus on herself. Commander Smith continues on without waiting for her response. “She raised him from a foal. He refused to come back to the Walls without her body. He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Arden shrugs as if she can’t be bothered by it. “I can’t attest to a horse’s reasoning, Sir,” she says. “He tolerates me enough to ride him.”

Smith smiles again, and Arden’s breath stops momentarily, readying herself for the punch. She’s not sure why, necessarily. Arden has never had great experiences when people are nice to her. They want something, or they’re trying to lull her into a false sense of security before attacking. The only people she trusts are Calla and Teagan. “You’re dismissed, Private Black,” he says. “Dinner will begin in an hour.” With that, the Commander turns and walks away. Corporal Levi glances at her again before following after him.

Arden makes sure that Spirit is fed and the tack is clean when she’s finished for the day. She bids him goodnight and then heads inside, towards the squad washrooms to clean herself up. She makes sure she is clean and presentable before walking to the canteen. Upon entering the room, Arden immediately finds Calla seated at a table in the corner. It’s impossible to get somewhere secluded, but that doesn’t matter. Teagan is in line, which Arden swiftly joins. It moves surprisingly fast, given the amount of people waiting, and within ten minutes, Arden has collected a plate with a small amount of meat, boiled potatoes, and a piece of bread. Certainly nothing special, but meat is something of a rarity in Arden’s life. She’d never had it before joining the military, and even then, they only had it twice.

Arden takes her plate and moves skillfully across the hall, dodging people, elbows, and carelessly-placed feet. She slides around her friends, so her back is to the wall.

“Did they talk to you?” She asks as she sits down.

Teagan shakes her head. “Just Commander Smith,” she replies. “He wanted to know how I was doing. I stayed with Jack and the others so he couldn’t dig too deep without having to do the same to them.” Arden nods, then turns her gaze to Calla, expectant.

Calla sighs. “Commander Smith found me,” she says, “as I was heading back to our room to put my journal away. Just like Teagan, he only wanted to know how I was getting on. I told him that it remains to be seen, which I deemed appropriate enough to reply due to our lack of activity today.”

Arden nods, impressed. “Good,” she replies. “Stay with others as much as possible to keep him or Corporal Levi from asking too many questions. If they question about rankings, we trained as hard as anyone.”

“What about Sam and the others?” Calla murmurs. “Do you think they’ll out us? If that happens, we’re done for.” Arden contemplates the question. It is possible that Smith and Ackerman might turn to the rest of the 102nd for answers when they receive nothing from Arden and her friends.

“I can’t answer that,” Arden says after a moment. “If they do, I’ll take the blame. You two will do nothing.” Arden sits back and raises her voice slightly. “I’ll be staying after to help with the dishes as usual. Go back to the room and go to sleep.”

“Yes, Arden,” the pair chorus. Satisfied, Arden begins eating her meal. Movement catches her eye, and when she looks, she sees Corporal Levi’s retreating back and frowns.


	7. Squad Leaders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in years, the Trio is split up. Arden finds herself in the messenger squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Character that appear.

When Arden wakes up from her typical four hours of sleep, she knows that today will likely be one of the hardest she’s faced in a while. She doesn’t like the idea of being separated from Calla and Teagan, especially if that means she won’t be able to watch over them for their first expedition. However, Arden knows that she set the rules, and she must follow them too. She won’t fight placements, but she won’t be happy about them, either. Arden climbs over to the ladder and makes her bunk before climbing down to the ground.

She stops to look at her friends, sleeping peacefully on the same bunk as usual. Calla’s usually-present scowl is nowhere to be seen, making her more approachable. Her long, golden hair fans halfway across Teagan’s neck, whose face is scrunched adorably at the tickling sensation. Arden breathes out a sigh of acceptance and leans down to shake them. “Come on,” she says softly. “We need to shower and get to the canteen.”

Teagan groans, covering her face in protest. “Come on, Arden,” she whines, voice thick with sleep. “Can’t we have five more minutes? ‘M so sleepy…”

“No, Teagan,” Arden replies. “Get up. The hot water will help. You’ll want to eat something before we get assigned to our squads.”

Calla, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, frowns. “I don’t like this idea, Arden,” she says. “I mean, how likely are we to keep this charade going?”

Arden moves across the room to the chest of drawers, where she opens hers and removes a uniform. She leaves her 3DMG harness and jacket behind, but picks up her boots. “I’m not thrilled about it either, Calla,” she sighs. “But we will keep this going for as long as we can. Now get your uniforms and lets go.” Though Arden wants to remind her friends that she will take the blame should their secret be outed, she resists, because they have not forgotten.  Obligingly, the pair scramble to collect their uniforms and the three of them make their way to the showers. Sam silently joins them, obviously not awake. Arden completes her usual routine, showering, dressing, and braiding her hair. After fixing her friends’ hair, Sam climbs out of the shower.

“Hey, Arden,” she says, capturing the woman’s attention. Sam is two years younger than she, only seventeen, but shows a level of matureness that Arden finds refreshing. “Would you mind maybe styling my hair today?”

The question kind of shocks Arden, but she finds herself saying, “Of course. Sit.” Sam sits as bidden, and Arden’s hands hesitate for a second before settling on the girl’s temple. Skillfully, she pulls the strands of black hair into a braid that cuts diagonally across Sam’s skull, ending in a bun behind her left ear. “There you go.”

Sam stands and starts to get dressed, but shoots Arden a smile. “Thanks.” Arden nods and puts on her boots before exiting the showers. Teagan and Calla, who she sent ahead, have already returned, put on their harnesses and jackets, and left. Arden pulls on her harness and jacket as well before walking by herself to the canteen.

Mark bumps her shoulder, and Jack slides his arm over her shoulders. Before Arden has a chance to question it, Mark leans down and whispers, “Roll with it, Arden. Trust us.” That’s when she sees what they do: Commander Smith walking down from the opposite end of the hallway. He had been heading directly for her, but seems to think better of it.

“Hey, Arden,” Jack grins, squeezing her shoulders. “You’re the perfect height to be an armrest.” Arden smirks and jams her elbow lightly into his ribs, making him yelp and pull away. The Commander passes by them without a word, and Arden raises a questioning eyebrow.

Mark sighs and pulls her into the line for food. “Yesterday afternoon, when the Commander came over, he really only wanted to talk to Teagan. She looked uncomfortable, so we figured he must be questioning all of you.”

“We want to help,” Jack adds.

Arden isn’t sure how to process the situation. Under normal circumstances, she would question what they want in return, but this doesn’t seem to be one of those situations. “Why?” She finally asks, unable to come up with a good enough reason for them to help her.

Mark smiles at her. “Look, you have your reasons for training, okay,” he explains. “We respect that. And besides, you’re pretty cool. If it means you don’t kill me, I’ll help you out.” Jack nods his agreement, and the only way Arden can describe the feeling in her chest is _touched_.

“I—thank you,” she says haltingly. “All of you. But don’t get yourselves in trouble for us. If they ask you, just tell the truth. Promise me you will.” She glances between Jack and Mark, and the intensity in her gaze must be enough to make them both nod in agreement. Arden collects her food, but hesitates before gesturing for them to follow her. Teagan and Calla are sat at the far table again, and they don’t even blink when Jack and Mark follow her over and sit.

“Thank you,” Calla says, clearly uncomfortable, looking at Mark. “For earlier.” Mark nods in easy acceptance, beginning to eat.

“They’ll help us as much as they can,” Arden informs her friends. “But they won’t cover for us.”

Teagan nods, unphased. “Makes sense,” she chirps happily, reaching over to ruffle Jack’s hair. He whines in protest, batting her hand away, making Teagan giggle. Sam emerges from the food line, and Mark stands up, waving his arm around in the air.

“Hey, Sammi!” He yells across the canteen. “Over here!” Several heads, including Sam’s, turn to look in their direction. Mark, unbothered, sits back down with a wide grin.

“You idiot!” Jack exclaims, reaching around Teagan to punch the other boy’s shoulder. “Now she’s gonna be pissed at us!”

Mark grins at him suggestively. “Aw, are you scared Sammi won’t _cuddle_ with you tonight, Jack?” He asks. Jack flushes at the words and he looks down, pushing his breakfast around his plate with his fork. Arden is no stranger to what is happening—last night, she heard the sounds coming from the room next to hers. Sam gets closer, notices Mark’s satisfied grin and Jack’s red face, and sighs.

She cuffs the back of Mark’s head and says, “Knock it off.” They all eat comfortably, exchanging stories and laughing, and Arden wonders—not for the first time—if she’s made a mistake in lying to them all. They genuinely seem to want to help, even though they have no reason to. _Then again_ , Arden thinks. _Neither did all of the other recruits of the 102nd._ Arden is confused. She’s never had people who want to help her for nothing in return. She feels like she owes them something now, and she has no idea how to repay it. It never occurs to her that they could be doing it because they think of her as a friend, and that’s just what friends do.

A woman with brown hair, glasses, and a crazy smile approaches them, making the table fall silent distrustfully. “Hi!” The woman gushes, as if she can’t see their dubious faces. “I’m Hanji Zoë, one of the Squad Leaders. You can just call me Hanji. Commander wants you all to report to training sector one after breakfast is over. Ooh! I can’t wait to see if any of you are on my squad!” Before anyone can say a word, the woman whirls around and runs off.

“Wow,” Teagan says with wide eyes. “That’s thirty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag.” Mark snickers, Jack busts out laughing, and even Sam is grinning,

Calla shoots Teagan a haughty glance. “You’re one to talk, you know,” she says arily. Teagan pouts, but when Calla looks over to see the real hurt swimming in the woman’s hazel eyes, and her face softens. “I apologize, Teagan.”

Teagan smiles softly. “I accept your apology, Calla. We’d better get out to training.” Mark stands first, Sam following his lead and dragging Jack to his feet. Arden stands as well, picking up her empty plate and returning it to the kitchens.

In the training sector one combat field, the cadets of the 102nd stand in a single line. Sam stands in the middle, Arden on her right, Teagan on her left. Jack stands next to Teagan, and Calla next to Jack. Mark falls in line on Arden’s other side. It is done without talking, without looking at one another. Standing in front of them are eight people. Arden recognizes Commander Smith, Corporal Levi, and Squad Leader Hanji. The other five are complete mysteries, but she can only assume that they are the other squad leaders.

Commander Smith steps forward, pulling all the attention to himself. “Privates, these will be your squad leaders. You will train with your squad as they see fit, and during expeditions, you will follow their every command. You have been placed in a squad in accordance to your skill levels from training. McLoughlin, step forward.” Jack complies. “You have been placed in Squad Mike.” The leader, presumably Mike, steps forward. Arden recognizes him from yesterday—the one sniffing the air. Jack salutes and steps back in line. “Marlow, you have been placed in Squad Nanaba.” The list goes on—Sam in Squad Mike, Mark in Squad Mike, Calla in Squad Hanji.

The Commander’s blue eyes land on Arden as he says, “Black.” Arden steps forward, hands clasped behind her back, face blank. “You have been placed in Squad Marlene.” A woman with blonde hair tied into a knot at the back of her head steps forward. Arden looks at her new leader dead in the eyes and salutes sharply. Squad Leader Marlene nods, and Arden drops the salute before stepping back into line. It’s not lost on her that they were called forth in non-alphabetical order. The military system, as Arden quickly learned, is one for order. It seems to her that Commander Smith did this to keep her on edge, to make her watch her friends’ placements.

To single her out.

“You are now dismissed,” Commander Smith says. “Follow your squad leaders.” Arden salutes with everyone else until he disappears. She notices that Corporal Levi has not been given any new members—but neither have two of the other squad leaders present.

Squad Leader Marlene gestures for Arden to follow her, and she complies quickly. “Welcome,” the woman says with a kind smile. “What’s your name?”

“Arden Black, Squad Leader,” Arden replies.

“Captain or Marlene is fine,” Marlene says. “I prefer to use first names. I find people respond to them more often than surnames, and out in the field, when I call your name, it’s important.” Arden nods, the woman’s logic sound. “My squad is the messenger squad. Even though we have flares, it’s our job to report disasters to Commander Smith. One or two of us will be with each squad on expeditions, and if anything goes wrong, we report first and foremost. Do _not_ try to be a hero. We are the Commander’s eyes and ears—without us, he has nothing. Am I understood, Arden?”

“Yes, Captain.” Arden can’t really say she is upset with her job. Being a hero is the last thing her mind connects to expeditions. She isn’t stupid—in the face of a titan, she knows she will only be concerned with her own survival. The only time she will disobey her orders is to save her friends, should she be placed with one of their squads.

Marlene smiles, stopping outside the stables. “Good,” she says. “I’ve heard good things about you, Arden. Your instructor’s notes say you are obedient and unflappable. That is the kind of soldier I need in my squad.” Arden resists the urge to snort. Unflappable—maybe. But _obedient_? At least her ruse is working. “Being the messenger squad, most of our work is with our horses. You were also given high marks for that in training, which makes you ideal. At the same time, you will be keeping your 3DMG skills sharp, in case you need to save yourself. We meet here every morning after breakfast. Eat with who you want—I’m not really a stickler for that—but be here at nine sharp.”

Arden nods. “I won’t fail, Captain.”

Marlene returns the gesture and leads the way into the stables, heading for the tack room. “Let’s saddle up,” she says. “If you can beat me, I’ll be impressed.”

Arden cares little for impressing her new Captain—but she hurries to collect her tack and begin saddling Spirit. She talks to him as she does—a habit she has formed—and quickly completes her task. She leads Spirit out of his stall mere seconds before Marlene pulls her horse out. The horse is chestnut brown with a tan mane and tail, and Arden notes it as female.

Marlene gives her a surprised smile. “Not bad, Arden,” she says. The pair lead the horses out into the pasture, where Arden can see five other people on horseback. Taking her cues from her Captain, who swings up into her horse’s saddle, Arden clicks her tongue. Spirit’s ears flick back at the noise, and he lifts his left foreleg. With a small smile, Arden uses it to boost herself up into the saddle, perfectly at ease on top of the great beast. If Marlene notices, she doesn’t say anything, and spurs her horse into motion, heading for the other figures. Spirit follows without encouragement from Arden, almost as if in-tune with her wishes.

Out in the middle of the field, which is now littered with obstacles, Arden reins Spirit to a stop near the other riders. She counts three girls and two boys. It doesn’t take her long to spot the similarities: small, light frames, meant for being able to ride horses fast, even with the heavy 3DM gear.

“Everyone, this is Arden, our newest member,” Marlene says. Some nod, some wave, some smile. Arden doesn’t keep track. They introduce themselves to her: Mayley, Janice, Sarah, Ogden, and Wade. After that, though, Marlene’s kind smile disappears and she begins training immediately. Arden knows Spirit is fast. All the horses are fast, of course—they are bred and trained for the Survey Corps, and that means possibly running from titans. Still, she and Spirit have outrun every other pair they’ve ever raced.

However, Arden did not expect Spirit to be so  _agile._ It’s not exactly her fault, though—his sheer size is enough to put doubt into anyone’s mind. Marlene instructs Arden and Wade to start at the far end of the field and head to the log of wood and jump over it. Wade seems perfectly comfortable with the command, but Arden has never had anything to try jumps with at all. One would think it part of the basics covered in training, but the opportunity was never presented to her. Slightly apprehensive, Arden steers Spirit to follow Wade.

“Wade! Show Arden how it’s done!” Marlene calls after them. _That’s why she’s paired me up_ , Arden realizes. _To give me examples_.

“Yes, Captain!” Wade yells back. Arden stops Spirit where she can see the jump from the side rather than from behind, where her view will be blocked. She supposes the wood is meant to be a fallen tree or something along the lines, but the jump is extremely tall. She can only hope that Spirit’s height is enough to help him clear it. Wade kicks his horse into motion, and the pair pick up speed until they are barrelling headlong at the log. As they near the jump, Wade leans in close to his horse’s neck, and then the horse jumps. Arden makes sure to watch Wade’s body—he slides backwards in the saddle, his legs locking straight to keep his feet in the stirrups. His body jolts as he lands, letting his horse run for a few more paces before pulling it to a stop.

Keeping the image and information in her mind, Arden encourages Spirit to move, heading towards the far end of the pasture. “Okay, fella,” she murmurs to him. His ears turn back, listening intently as they take their place. “I trust you.” Spirit lets out a soft snort, as if trying to comfort her. She tries to tamp her slight nerves down so as to not put him off.

“Whenever you’re ready, Arden!” Marlene’s voice is quieter from across the field, but Arden hears it with no problem. She pulls in a deep breath, lets it out, and narrows her eyes on her course. All it takes is a small nudge to Spirit’s sides, and he takes off at nearly full speed. Well-used to the feeling, Arden lets him take the lead, focused solely on the log. It gets closer and closer, but Arden waits. She trusts Spirit, and he’ll tell her when she needs to move.

The jump is no more than three feet away when she feels his muscles tense. Arden leans low, almost blending seamlessly with the curve of his neck, and locks her legs straight. She feels the sharp motion upward, and then the weightlessness that she’s only ever been able to achieve for short moments with the 3DMG. It’s gone in less than thirty seconds—the impact of Spirit’s front hooves hitting the ground on the other side of the log jar her, followed quickly by his back hooves hitting the ground. Arden swiftly unlocks her legs to keep them from getting injured and sits up, slowly pulling Spirit back to a stop. Adrenaline is coursing through her entire body, the thrum making even her fingertips numb.

“Thank you, Spirit,” she breathes just loud enough for him to hear, reaching out a surprisingly-steady hand to stroke his neck. He nods his head as if accepting her thanks, and she has to smirk at his decidedly humanlike tendencies. Arden is so focused on Spirit that she misses the impressed faces of her new squad members.

* * *

 

Dinner is already in full-swing by the time Arden reaches the canteen. Spirit had been so tired by the end of practice that she decided to bathe him, imagining that he didn’t care for the sweat lathered on his skin. She also mucked out his stall, refilled his food and water, and found a carrot for him to munch on. Then, covered in dirt and sweat herself, Arden retreated to the showers to change. Dinners are very lax, Arden noticed yesterday, with quite a few members wearing casual clothes if their uniform for the day is dirty. She showers quickly, just enough to wash her skin clean, and then changes into her black, skintight trousers and blue tunic, the sleeves travelling down to her wrists.

After collecting her dinner, Arden moves to her table, where the rest of the 102nd sit. Calla is the only one still not in uniform, the scowl on her face telling a story. Everyone’s eyes rest on her as she sits, but Arden ignores them in favor of eating her small portion of veg.

“So, Calla,” Mark says, turning the conversation onto the golden-haired woman, whose scowl—if even possible—deepens. “Are you finally going to tell us what’s got you in such a mood?”

“You’ve been glaring at your dinner like it’s killed your family,” Jack adds teasingly. Teagan giggles, reaching out to poke Calla’s cheek. Calla instantly smacks her hand away and sighs.

“If you heathens _must_ know,” she seethes. “That madwoman managed to spill some sort of concoction on me within the first three minutes. How someone as clumsy and incompetent as her managed to become a _squad leader_ is beyond me.” Arden is too busy trying to remain impassive to scold her for talking bad about her Captain.

They all take turns, recounting the day and telling stories from their new squads.

After washing the dishes, Arden goes back to her room, where Calla and Teagan are already laying down, getting comfortable. Arden closes the door and begins to change without a word before settling down at the desk to begin polishing her boots.

When they are shiny enough for her to see her reflection, Arden puts them away and blows out the lanterns, climbing up into her bunk in the dark.


	8. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new challenge is issued: an expedition. Arden and her friends must prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that appear.

Three months pass by in a blur of stiff thighs, 3DMG cables, and adequate compliance. Despite her best efforts, Arden is unable to stay adequate on top of Spirit. They pass every single test with flying colors. She does manage to stay disgustingly ordinary with everything else, including 3DMG practices and even the memory courses that are mandatory for Squad Marlene. They need to know the maps like the back of their hands, so that they can navigate between squads with ease.

At the moment, though, they are in the canteen with the rest of the Survey Corps, awaiting the announcement from Commander Smith. Teagan, as usual, is bouncing around and chattering happily. “Aish, Teagan,” Calla mumbles. “Do you _ever_ get tired?

“Nope!” The rest of the 102nd chuckle at the brunette’s antics, well-used to her happy-go-lucky nature by now. Calla grumbles incoherently, but at Arden’s glance, Teagan stands still.

The canteen falls silent, and Commander Smith clears his throat. “In one week’s time, we will be heading out on our Fifty-Third Expedition outside the Walls.” He doesn’t waste time mincing words. “We will be riding out to meet the supply wagons and returning within three days. Take heart now!”

Arden straightens her posture and salutes with every other soldier in the room. “ _Sir_!” They all shout. They are dismissed to their squads, and Arden bids her friends goodbye. She meets her squad outside of the stables, like usual, and Ogden throws his arm over her shoulders. Like Mark, Sam, and Jack, her squad has gotten too familiar with her, but she doesn’t dismiss their attempts at friendship. As far as people go, they’re okay, and they’ve come to think of her as some sort of little sister. Surprisingly, it doesn’t make Arden uncomfortable anymore.

Marlene sighs. “Okay, everyone—you heard the Commander. Two weeks from today, we will be heading outside the Walls. There are seven squads and the main troupe.” Arden does the math—including herself and Marlene, there are eight people. One person per group. Marlene continues, unaware to Arden’s thoughts. “So we rest the horses for the week, let them gather their strength. We run 3DMG and memory courses until we leave. I’ve already chosen squad postings, and I’ll only be telling you once, so remember. Keep in mind that I’ve alerted the squad leaders to your presence, but you are not their problem. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” Squad Marlene says as one.

Marlene nods. “Good. Ogden, you’ll be with Squad Mike. Sarah, you’ll join Squad Hanji. Mayley is posted with Squad Nanaba, Wade with Squad Dirk, and Janice, you’ll be with Squad Klaus. Arden.”

Arden waits expectantly. “Yes, Captain?”

“Since this is your first expedition, I’ve placed you on Squad Levi. He is in charge of the elites, and you’ll be safer there than anywhere else.” Marlene’s face is serious, but Arden can see the emotion swimming in her brown eyes. Marlene genuinely cares for those on her squad, something both bothersome and a little endearing. She’s respecting Arden’s abilities, whilst still trying to protect her. Arden suspects she feels guilty because she can’t protect her squad herself.

Arden isn’t sure if she’s supposed to be offended or grateful, but she settles on the latter. “Thank you, Captain.” Ogden squeezes her shoulders tightly.

Marlene nods. “Let’s move!”

* * *

 

Arden’s feet touch the ground almost soundlessly, but she scowls and stalks over to where Teagan and Calla are collapsed. “You call that your _best_?” She snarls lowly. “Calla, if that titan were real, you’d be _dead_. And Teagan, how is it acceptable in your mind to waste that much gas? You’ll be running on fumes within minutes, and then you’d be _dead_ . How many times do we have to go through this?” They don’t reply, because they know she’s right. “Laps,” Arden orders tightly, voice cold as ice. “Laps until I say stop, and then run it _again_.”

Her friends pick themselves up and begin running without complaint, their gear clanking softly. Arden watches, jaw clenched and arms knotted tightly across her chest. She lets them run four laps before making them run the 3DMG gauntlet again. They’re in training sector two, which has a thicket of trees and fake titan cutouts to practice in. It’s not nearly as private as sector five, but Arden learned quickly that it neighbors the officers’ wing of the compound, and she can’t take that risk.

Arden follows her friends’ progress, noting that Calla is _still_ keeping her turns too loose and Teagan is second-guessing herself, causing a slight hesitation delay. _Unacceptable_ , Arden growls mentally. At this rate, they’re begging to be killed. She has five days to get them in shape—she’ll let them rest the last two days, to gather their strength. Until then, Arden will be merciless.

“No!” She snaps when she reaches the end of the course. “Teagan, if you second-guess yourself outside these goddamn Walls, you will get yourself and possibly others killed. And Calla— _tighten those turns_. You move too wide like that around a titan and you’re likely to hang yourself. Plank until I say go again.” For weeks now, Arden has been practicing on her own. Her squad doesn’t do much in terms of strength or stamina training, but she’s whipped herself into shape. Now she needs to fix her friends, because there is no way she will let them outside the Walls in these conditions.

Arden counts out three minutes before relieving them and making them run the gauntlet again. They’ve been at this for almost five hours now, and she can see the exhaustion in their forms. Good. They need to be able to do this in their sleep. Finally, they both run their best round yet.

Arden sighs. “Return the gas canisters and go to bed,” she tells them, voice losing the manic edge. “We’ll continue this tomorrow night. In your free time, I want you studying maps. You will know how to find your way back to the Walls from anywhere out there before we leave.” They leave without a word, dragging themselves back to the compound, dropping their gas canisters off in the supply shed with those that need refilled. Arden can’t bring herself to feel guilty for being so hard on them. She drops her own canisters off and follows them to the compound, sneaking in through their open window. Calla is struggling to undo her harness, ice-blue eyes dull. Teagan is slumped on their bunk, unbuttoning her uniform shirt. Arden places her gear on the bottom bed of her bunk and begins removing her harness. She hangs that up and quickly changes. She collects Teagan and Calla’s uniforms, throwing them in the laundry basket. Their rotation is tomorrow before dinner. The 102nd will be released from training early to complete it.

Arden polishes the three pairs of boots before putting them away and turning to face her friends. They’re watching her tiredly. “Listen,” she says, sitting forward in the desk chair. “There is nothing I can do or say to prepare you for what might happen out there. I can only tell you what I know: there will be death. There will be blood. You will be scared. And it is very likely that one, if not all of us, will die out there. I can’t tell you what a titan is like. I _can_ tell you that no matter what, I want you to do your best to _survive_.

“Forget adequacy. Keep the compliancy, but do _not_ hold yourselves back. Not out there. If you calculate that you can save someone without risking your lives, then do so. But always remember that you come first and foremost—your lives are not any less than someone else’s.”

“I apologize for interrupting, Arden,” Teagan says quietly. “But if we come back alive, won’t they know we’ve been holding ourselves back?”

“Your apology is unnecessary, Teagan,” Arden replies. “Yes, they will know. We will be interrogated, and I will take the blame. If there is disciplinary action, I will take it and you two will run your re-evaluations to the best of your abilities. Until then, though, focus on the expedition. The most advice I can give you is to stay focused. Don’t freeze up, no matter how much you want to. Listen to your squad leaders. And above all else, _survive_.”

“Yes, Arden,” they chorus.

* * *

 

Levi has barely made it back from dinner and settled down at his desk before a knock sounds on his door. “Tch. Name and business!”

“It’s Marlene, Levi,” a female voice calls from the other side. “I have your messenger posting.” Levi scowls and lets the woman enter. She walks in and sits down across from him, sliding a piece of paper across the desk. Levi picks it up and reads the name.

“Did Erwin put you up to this?” He asks suspiciously.

Marlene shrugs. “Possibly,” is her vague response. “It’s Arden’s first expedition and I don’t have enough people to keep her with me. Her skill with Spirit is unmatched. Oh, don’t give me that look—she won’t interfere with your squad’s precious maneuvers. She knows what she’s supposed to do.”

“I can’t guarantee she’ll come back, Marlene,” Levi says, putting the piece of paper down. In reality, he isn’t as upset with the situation as he looks. This way, he can keep a close eye on at least one of the brats that always seem too perfectly ordinary.

“I’m not asking you to, Levi,” Marlene says, voice heavy. “But you’ll try.”

He can’t deny it.

Marlene stands and leaves without another word, shutting the door behind her. Levi looks at the paper and clicks his tongue. “Tch.”

* * *

 

Apparently, a mandatory check-up must be performed for all soldiers before an expedition. That is how she finds herself sitting in the infirmary while a doctor has her perform simple routines. “Well, Black,” he says, “other than your condition, you’re clean as a whistle. Feel free to go back to practice.”

Arden slides off of the cot. “Thank you, Doctor,” she says before taking her leave. Calla is across the room, still getting checked out. Arden can’t help but feel the sympathetic stares of the doctors, nurses, and veterans as she passes. They know she’s new—and the most likely to die. The average survivability age in the Survey Corps is eighteen. Since she was older when she joined, she has a leg up in the age department, but the odds are stacked against her.

 _At the same time, if they keep staring at me like I’m some sort of dead woman walking, they’ll find themselves with a broken nose_. The surly thought comes unbidden to her mind, and Arden pushes it aside. Now is not the time to be starting fights. She needs to focus on herself, on Calla, and on Teagan.

“Private Black.” Arden freezes at the voice. He’s the last person she wants to see right now, but she obligingly turns around and salutes to her Commander. He smiles down at her, and she’s suddenly on edge again. His smile does not bode well to her, though he’s never given her a reason to distrust him. “How are you?”

He wants an honest response, so she will give him the most honest one she can. “Tired, Sir,” Arden replies. The look on his face tells her it’s not the response he expected—perhaps she should have gone with _nervous_ instead. Too late.

He moves a step closer and lowers his voice. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your family,” he says. “Would you prefer to do so in private?”

Arden shakes her head, unwilling to put herself in a situation where she is alone with him in a private room. “No, Commander,” she says. “Here is fine.”

The Commander nods. “Very well,” he says. “You don’t have any next-of-kin listed in your file. Would you like to list someone now? I only ask because of upcoming events.”

 _You mean my likely demise_ , she thinks sourly. “My family is dead, Sir.” Arden keeps her voice emotionless and her face impassive. “Should one or both of them survive, turn my belongings over to Private Marlow and Private Curtis. If that isn’t possible, do as you see fit. It’s not like I’ll know the difference.”

She sees the shock register in Commander Smith’s eyes at her confession. “I see,” he says. “My apologies. I’ll make a note of your wishes right away. Carry on.”

“Sir.” Arden salutes and then turns on her heel, heading for the stables. She won’t tell her friends of this altercation—they don’t need her planning for her own death hanging over their heads. They already have too much to deal with right now.

* * *

 

Arden pulls the uniforms down from the line, folding each shirt and each pair of pants carefully as she does. She has them separated into three different stacks: her’s, Calla’s, and Teagan’s. Beside her, Teagan is scrubbing away at their sheets, Calla rinsing them out and hanging them to dry. They have two sets of sheets, which get alternated every week so the other set can be washed.

Aside from the rustle of cloth as she folds the clothes methodically, the splash of the soapy water in the tub, and the slap of wet fabric hitting itself, it is silent. They have two days before the expedition, and Arden is satisfied with her friends’ ability to use the 3DM gear, ride their horses, and then do it all in conjunction with one another. She knows they can find their way anywhere now, so if they were to ever get separated from their squads, they could find their way back.

“Arden?” Teagan asks quietly, carrying a pillowcase from the wash bin to the rinse tub. Arden straightens the collar on one of Calla’s shirts and hums in response. “Can we sing?”

“Of course we can, Teagan,” Arden responds instantly. “You know that.”

They’re a strange, dysfunctional family, but they make it work by accepting each other for who they are, how they came to be, and traditions from their birth families. For Teagan, that means singing while they work. Arden remembers sitting in the tree branch at the edge of the Marlow’s tiny backyard, listening to Teagan and her mother sing as they hung up the laundry to dry.

Arden also remembers hugging Teagan close as tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking into her brown hair. Arden remembers her rough voice skipping over notes and cracking through the air as she sang in an attempt to comfort Teagan.

Now, though, they all sing while they work. Sometimes Calla, sometimes Arden, but Teagan is usually the one who begins the song. It’s no different this time, the brunette woman launching into song at once. Her voice is powerful and rhythmic, and Calla’s is soft and melodic. Arden doesn’t like her voice when she sings—she thinks it’s too rough, too harsh—but she joins in too, singing about the rivers that used to flow and the freedom humanity enjoyed.


	9. Dauntless and Deadly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for the expedition, and Arden will not be holding herself back anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that might surface.

Breakfast is silent. The only sounds that can be heard are the clanking of silverware against plates and the occasional incoherent muttered conversation. Arden stays silent, her eyes on the empty table in front of her. She won’t eat today—the hunger will keep her focused, keep her on edge. That is what she needs out there. Briefly, she looks up at those occupying the rest of the table. Teagan isn’t smiling, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. Calla looks vaguely nauseated at the thought of eating, but still takes small bites here and there. Jack is pale and his eyes are terrified, sitting with his shoulder flush against Mark’s. Mark keeps shifting uncomfortably, looking nervous. Sam looks calm and unperturbed, but Arden knows better—Sam’s eyes are dark with fear.

Commander Smith had already given his speech, consisting of some encouragement and instructions to begin packing up and getting in formation directly after breakfast ends. Yesterday, Marlene informed her squad to pack as light as possible, and Arden has taken the advice to heart. She has a water canteen, her bedroll, her 3DMG, and a book. She doesn’t waste her time bringing extra uniforms. She’s also made sure that Teagan and Calla have done the same.

“We need to get our horses ready,” Arden murmurs softly to the rest of the table, but makes no move. Instead, Mark stands up first, pulling an unsteady Jack up after him. Sam gets up as well, supporting Jack from the other side as they move to take their plates back. Teagan starts to follow, but Arden’s attention snaps to see a commotion. Jack fell, Sam just barely managing to catch his plate before it shattered.

“Pull yourself together, new meat,” a nearby veteran snaps. “At this right you might as well hang yourself.” Arden’s jaw clenches and she stands, walking with calm, even steps over to the other half of the 102nd. Mark, unable to balance his plate and lift Jack up, stands holding the other boy’s elbow whilst Jack tries to scramble to his feet. Sam watches, unable to help at all with both hands occupied.

She feels all eyes on her, but Arden stops and bends down, offering Jack an unhindered hand. He looks at her, embarrassed and queasy, and reaches up to take it. She patiently steadies him as he gets his feet back under him, but as she does, she turns to the man who had spoken. “Under normal circumstances, I would kill you right here, right now,” she promises, voice so low that only he and Jack have a chance of hearing it. “But there’s an expedition. Watch your back.” With that, she pulls Jack to his feet and steadies him. He nods his thanks and is led away by Sam and Mark. Teagan and Calla appear on either side of Arden, and she shoots the veteran one cold, impassive glance before walking away.

Back in their room, they gather their packs and strap on the 3DMG. Arden checks them out of habit, but finds no faults. Then, before she leaves the room, she pulls the forest-green cloak over her shoulders and fastens it at her throat. She’s never liked the damn things, always feeling like she’s being choked when she wears one, but it’s protocol, so she doesn’t complain. Within minutes, they are leaving the compound and heading out to the stables. Everyone is still silent, the tension practically palpable at this point. Arden doesn’t know what to say to comfort them. She doesn’t know how to explain to them how she keeps her emotions on lockdown so as to not overload herself. She doesn’t know how to tell them that she’s sorry. She never wanted this for them—never wanted them in danger. She would have preferred them to be at the very top of the top ten, safe inside the Walls with the Military Police, but they chose to follow her—and Arden refuses to take away their choices.

Arden saddles up Spirit without a word. As if he knows what is happening, he nuzzles his nose into her cheek, and her hand absentmindedly rises to stroke his cheek. She secures her pack to the saddle, tightening the belts until she’s sure it won’t fall off. She has to be extra careful with these kinds of things, considering Spirit’s speed.

“Stay here, fella,” she whispers. “I’ll be right back.” Spirit nickers and stays still as Arden opens the stall door and heads to check on Calla and Teagan. She makes sure their horses are tacked up properly and their packs are secured tightly. Then, right there in the middle of the stables, surrounded by other people, Arden pulls the two into a tight hug. They return the gesture willingly, arms tightening around her and one another.

“I apologize,” Arden whispers to them. “For dragging you both into this.”

“We accept your apology, Arden,” Teagan responds instantly, voice just as quiet.

“But your apology is unnecessary,” Calla finishes. “We chose to come here. We chose to do this, because we know the risks, and we trust you. You’ve prepared us as best as you could—that’s all we’ve ever asked for.” Arden knows this. It doesn’t help ease the guilt. They pull away first and move to their horses. Arden wipes her face clear of emotion and returns to collect Spirit. He nuzzles into her again, and then leans down, turning his neck so he can look at her with one, wide eye. Arden stares back, but what she’s looking for, she isn’t sure.

Eventually, she breaks the contact and leads him out of the stall, heading for the front of the compound. Once outside of the building, she clicks her tongue and Spirit lifts his left foreleg, curling his hoof backwards. Arden climbs into the saddle with ease despite the 3DMG at her hips. This was all part of her training with Squad Marlene—being comfortable atop a horse, being able to move swiftly with the gear still on her.

Arden spurs Spirit into motion, heading for her squad that is collected around Marlene. She isn't the last one to arrive—Wade and Sarah ride up a few minutes later, looking as grim as everyone else. Marlene doesn’t waste time with formalities. “Get to your squads, all of you. Remember your training.” Her eyes focus on Arden as she says this last sentence.

“Yes, Captain,” Arden choruses with the rest of the squad. Arden twists to look for Corporal Levi, finding him on the opposite side of the gathering with four others immediately around him. She can only assume that they are his squad—the elites, the ones everyone in the Survey Corps talks about. Apparently, the team’s total kill count exceeds 200 titans. Arden has often seen them at meals, crowded around one table, rowdy and carefree. She and Spirit move confidently through the mass of riders, the horses recognizing Spirit’s authority and moving aside. People stare as she passes, but Arden pays them no mind.

Corporal Levi looks at her the moment she gets within fifteen feet of him, and his cold, blue-grey eyes make her want to sneer at his supposed authority. Arden manages to keep herself in check—if only just—and pulls Spirit to a stop three feet away.

* * *

 

Levi isn’t surprised to see her perfectly at ease atop the creature. Months of training with Marlene must have boosted her already-impressive confidence on that hellbeast of a horse. What _does_ surprise him is her perfectly calm face, as if she is unbothered by the fact that she might die within minutes. Vaguely, he recalls the altercation from breakfast. It’s not a surprise, nor anything new, to mark the new brats for their untimely demise. Levi doesn’t care if three of them placed top ten in training—they’ve never seen a titan before, and are more likely to freeze and get themselves killed.

He remembers Arden’s empty hands reaching out to the other shit, and vaguely questioning why she didn’t have a plate. It’s not the first time he’s ever seen her without food at meals, but she’s not his problem under normal circumstances. Levi knows he saw her mouth move, talking to the shit-for-brains who goaded the brat on the floor, but he has no idea what she said.

Levi takes note of her lack of supplies. Black stops three feet away. “Arden Black, reporting from Squad Marlene, Sir.” Her voice is emotionless, factual, following protocol.

“You’ll ride center,” Levi responds, matching her tone. It’s the safest position, just behind him. “Eld will ride right flank, Petra on left. Oulo and Gunther will bring up the rear.” He told Marlene he couldn’t promise Black’s survival, but he would try. As long as the brat follows Marlene’s orders and doesn’t try to be a hero, she should make it to the checkpoint at least.

* * *

 

Things progress too quickly for Arden’s taste. Before she knows what is really happening, she has taken her position just behind the Corporal, and they have set off, heading for the gate in Wall Maria. People stop and gather at the edges of the roads, watching and whispering. Arden keeps her eyes forward, unwilling to look at more grim faces that expect her to never return.

“... they’re at it again,” Arden hears a snippet of a conversation. “Oh, Mina, look at her—she’s barely more than Collin’s age!”

“Poor dear,” Mina says, and it takes Arden a second to realize that they’re talking about her. Her blank face settles into a scowl. “I wonder if her family’s here to see her off.”

Petra Ral, the only female on Squad Levi, is on Arden’s left and spurs her horse closer. “Don’t pay them any mind,” she says kindly. Arden glances at her. The woman’s pale ginger hair falls loosely down to her shoulders, framing her decidedly girlish face and wide, too-innocent auburn eyes. “You’re with us, and Captain made sure to put you in the safest position. You’ll be fine.”

Arden can’t quite pinpoint what annoys her about Ral—is it her innocent face, or her kind-yet-condescending words? Either one, it rubs Arden the wrong way. “Center position is the safest until the horses around it panic,” Arden tells her, only just barely managing to keep the acerbic tone out of her voice. “And then it’s the most dangerous and the hardest to escape out of still on horseback.” She leaves out the fact that Spirit could easily jump free if she commanded him—it would only make her seem more likely to abandon them at the first sight of danger. Petra frowns and steers her horse a little further away from Spirit. Arden hadn’t meant to be so harsh—she’s letting her emotions get the better of her. “I apologize for my brash behavior. I meant nothing by it.” Ral nods, but Arden knows she’s still rather upset.

“You better not have, brat,” comes the haughty, annoying voice of Oluo Bozado from behind her. Arden resists the urge to roll her eyes. In the short amount of time that she’s known him, she knows that if she were to leave anyone to their deaths besides the vet who messed with Jack that morning, he would be at the top of her list. Bozado has a tendency to mimic Corporal Levi’s brash commands, puffing his chest out and generally reminding her of Calla before Arden knocked that attitude out of her. “ _You’re_ just here on temporary assignment—and _we’re_ the _elites_.”

Vaguely, Arden wonders if his definition of _elite_ varies from hers, but stays silent and pays no mind to the jab directed at her. If she wanted, she could pull Spirit back, falling in line between Bozado and Gunther Schultz, and dismantle Bozado’s saddle tie before he could even flinch. Arden uses the mental image of the blond-haired man flailing wildly as the saddle slides out from underneath him. She hears the satisfying impact of flesh on dirt, and the accompanying yell.

For a couple of minutes, Arden tries to find her friends. Teagan’s signature hairstyle is easy to spot, the woman in place with the rest of Squad Nanaba. Arden is unable to spot Calla’s golden hair and pink ribbon, which leads her to the conclusion that the woman is somewhere behind her.

“Oi!” Bozado shouts at her, relentless. This time, Arden _does_ roll her eyes. “Did you hear anything I said, brat? If you’re ignoring me, I’ll—” Arden looks back just in time to see the man’s eyes widen in pain as he chokes. The best she can figure is that his horse tripped as he was speaking, the resulting jolt causing him to chomp down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The sight is almost as satisfying as her mental revenge, and Arden turns back around to hide her smirk.

“Oh, Oluo,” Ral sighs behind her. “Haven’t you done this before? You should know better by now.” Arden stores the information away—if Bozado has done this before, then that must speak about his mental capacity. She won’t remember it because it’ll be something to hold against him in the future. _Not at all_.

Arden is too short to see over the mass of much-taller riders, so she can’t see why the procession has halted. Still, the bells begin ringing, and someone from in front shouts to open the gate. _This is happening_ , Arden tells herself, any previous thoughts of revenge gone. _In less than five minutes, I will be outside the Walls, surrounded by titans._

The surge of adrenaline tears through her like wildfire, vicious and terrifying. Arden can’t explain it, but her fear has always been linked to her adrenaline. It’s how she’s survived. The procession begins moving again, picking up pace until they’ve hit a canter, and Arden realizes it’s to get everyone out faster so the gate can be closed again before anything bad can happen.

Once they’re outside, the squads split off from the main troupe. Arden lets Spirit follow Corporal Levi as they branch off to the right, moving at a quick-yet-steady pace to get into position on the far right flank. Arden wants to take a moment to absorb her surroundings, but denies herself the chance. The more focused she is on the pretty scenery, the less focused she is on possible threats. Ten minutes later, Corporal Levi slows his horse to a walk and straightens out the course until they are heading due north.

Arden hears the loud, unusual noise before she ever sees the source, which tells her that listening will come in handy during this mission more than any other sense. When she turns her head to look for it, what she sees makes her blood turn cold, limbs turning heavy. Then, within the same second, the fire of adrenaline is back, and her hands grip the reins tighter in an effort to keep herself from taking care of the problem—from acting on her sheer instinct to _survive_. The thing is tall, nearly seven meters, with wide, bloodshot grey eyes. It’s face is stretched into an unnatural grin that marks it terrifying and hilarious in equal parts. The skin on top of its head lacks hair, and Arden notes the lack of genital organs.

“Titan,” Eld Jinn, the second-in-command, calls to their leader as the creature approaches. “I don’t think we can shake it.”

“Eld, Gunther, take care of it,” the Corporal orders firmly. Arden watches with rapt attention, taking note of everything from the way they maneuver off of their horses, their technique of reaching the titan, and the skillful way they take it down with an ease borne from years of practice. It’s over in five minutes, but Arden can’t help but feel… _disappointed_. She expected the elite squad to be _faster_. Jinn and Schultz return to their horses, and the squad continues moving.

“Black.” Arden snaps to attention at her name, locating the source as Corporal Levi. “Did you see it?” A confusing question—because honestly, how could she not have seen it?—but one she will answer nonetheless.

“Yes, Corporal,” she replies dutifully.

“Are you scared?” Arden ponders the question for half a second. In reality, she should be. Those who do not fear for their lives out here are either incredibly stupid or arrogant, and both end up dead. Those who _are_ afraid—especially if they can’t harness that fear and work around it—end up dead. Arden can’t tell what answer the Corporal is looking for.

So, she stays honest. “This feels like a trap, Sir,” she tells him. “I don’t know what answer you expect from me.” She half expects the anger-prone man in front of her to snap back, so when his reply comes in a calm, collected tone, she is surprised.

“I want the truth, Black.” Arden runs through several responses in her head, looking for the least complicated one. The longer they spend talking, the harder it is for her to try and get a grip on what she’s hearing to identify danger nearby.

“I was scared,” Arden finally settles on. “And now I’m not.” She isn’t asked to elaborate.

To most people, it would be deathly, impossibly quiet. They might only hear the breathing and hoofbeats of the horses, maybe a rustle as a bird is startled and flies from its perch. They might hear the wind whistling through the leaves of the scattered trees. To Arden, everything is impossibly _loud_. She hears all of it—and more. Her brain is whirling, on overload, trying to identify every little sound she hears. It’s impossible. These sounds are new to her. She’s used to shouts, calls, laughter, yells. She’s used to wagon wheels, 3DM gear, and all the sounds that accompany them. These sounds are foreign, and Arden can’t identify them.

It’s too much, and not enough, and Arden grits her teeth against the onslaught of despair rising in her. If she can’t identify danger, how can she be expected to survive?

So, she needs to change, to adapt. She can’t identify every single sound, but she can identify the biggest threat: titan footsteps. She can also identify those pertaining to her job: incoming riders. Arden needs to set limits for herself, or she will die. She decides to focus on titans and riders only, and then filters through everything else accordingly, as she has done for years upon years. Suddenly, everything becomes much more manageable, and Arden’s brain isn’t whirling helplessly. After that, Arden knows she needs to find a distance from her that can be discerned as a threat to her survival.

Her answer is thirty yards, twenty yards, and ten yards. Anywhere from twenty-one to thirty is not a threat, but still close enough to take note of. When a titan is in between eleven yards and twenty yards, they are a possible threat and should be watched for signs of change. At ten yards or closer, there is an imminent threat to her and a warning will be issued, welcomed or not. Her job is to stay on Spirit and report messages, so unless her life is about to be taken, and there is no other option, she will do as she’s told. No need to risk herself unnecessarily.

 _Titan, three o’clock, twenty-six yards, not a threat._ Arden’s head never moves, her gaze never leaving the back of Corporal Levi’s head. If the man feels her gaze, as he often seems to do, he says nothing about it. On her right, Eld Jinn’s horse tosses its head, trying to clear the flies away. To her right, Petra Ral glances periodically between Arden and Corporal Levi. For the life of her, Arden can’t understand why Ral keeps looking at her. _Titan, seven o’clock, eighteen yards, possible threat_. Behind her, she can hear Oluo Bozado’s breathing, almost as loud as his horse’s. Gunther Shultz’s horse nickers, behind her and to her left. _Titan, four o’clock, twenty-one yards, not a threat._

Suddenly, a different sound. _Incoming rider, nine o’clock, Squad Nanaba location_. Arden turns to look to her left, expectantly. Ral, noticing her movement, turns to look at Arden who pays her no mind. Three minutes later, Arden catches sight of Kylin’s colorings as Mayley rides into sight. Suddenly, everyone is looking. If Arden were paying particular attention, she would have seen Ral shoot her an incredulous glance. As it is, Arden is more focused on Mayley. _Titan, seven o’clock, twenty-three yards, not a threat_.

“A large mass of titans has been spotted to the north,” Mayley reports. “Main troupe is shifting east ten miles to avoid. Squad Nanaba shifting east ten miles to follow. Respond accordingly.” Corporal Levi nods, but makes no verbal response. Mayley glances at Arden, who nods, before the older woman turns Kylin around and takes off again.

“We’re moving west ten miles. Black—find Squad Dirk and report,” Corporal Levi orders. “Return when finished.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jinn reins his horse back enough for Arden to guide Spirit out of the formation. All it takes is the lightest nudge of her heels into Spirit’s side, and he takes off.

* * *

 

The brat races off, and Levi can’t help but be impressed at her horse’s speed. He turns back and faces forward again, hoping she’s competent enough to not get herself killed on something so simple.

“Captain?” Petra calls softly, getting his attention. Levi looks over his left shoulder to see her and waits expectantly. “I noticed something about Private Black. She keeps muttering something, and I can’t make out what, but she knew that messenger was coming before any of us. She even knew what direction she came from.”

Odd. It takes skill and a level of awareness that not even he possesses. Levi prides himself on his awareness, but what Petra is describing is something that seems almost impossible. “Focus on the mission,” he reprimands.

Petra flushes. “Sorry, Captain.” Satisfied, Levi turns back around and faces forward again, pondering the new information. He knows Marlene trains her squad to be aware of everything, but this seems ridiculous. He’ll just have to test this when Black returns. _If she returns_. The thought makes him scowl. Nothing about an expedition is safe, Levi knows that, but being a messenger is one of the more dangerous aspects. There’s no one to watch your back when you make a run to deliver a message, but it has to be done.

Black returns half an hour later, and given the circumstances, Levi half expected it to take longer. Once again, he is reminded of the horse’s sheer speed and forgets about it. “Message delivered, Sir,” Black reports, voice emotionless and firm. At his nod, she guides her horse back to center formation, and it is silent again. He begins shifting the squad to the left, so they steer clear from the titans. They’ll reach checkpoint much later than the original route would have taken them, but it can’t be helped. Silent—and yet, it isn’t. It’s hard to hear, and at first, Levi wants to dismiss the small, feminine voice murmuring something behind him as nothing more than a bird.

But then it happens again, and a few yards later, again.

* * *

 

 _Titan, four o’clock, twenty-five yards, not a threat._ Below her, Spirit’s flanks are heaving as he tries to get his breath back. Arden feels bad for riding him so hard, but she knows that he’ll recover quickly, as long as nothing happens that would require more running in the next twenty minutes or so. Absentmindedly, she strokes his neck, carding her fingers through Spirit’s black mane. _Titan, two o’clock, twenty-one yards, not a threat_.

“Oi, brat.” His voice is cold and hard, but Arden expects nothing less from him at this point—he seems to have a very limited vocal range. “Speak up or shut up.”

Before Arden can stop herself, she reports, “Titan, five o’clock, sixteen yards, possible threat, Sir.” She does it more out of spite than anything else—a knee-jerk reaction to being ordered that she’s suppressed for far too long.

“Yeah, right,” Bozado scoffs from behind her, to her right. “Like we’re supposed to believe—” Arden’s eyes narrow, focused on the latest threat. She hears loud, rough breathing intensify, accompanied by the consecutive _thumps_ of meaty feet on dirt.

“Ten yards,” she interrupts. “Picking up speed, headed our direction—six yards.” Just as she finishes her message, almost as if on command, the titan bursts out of the treeline, beady eyes and leering grin trained on them. If she wasn’t already tense, Arden would have at the sight. She stays put, on Spirit, as are her orders. Her life is not in immediate danger.

“Tch.” The sound grates on Arden’s nerves. “Eld, take care of it.” Jinn is up and out of his saddle, flying expertly through the air. He’s fast, she admits, but still so disgustingly slow to her standards. Within seven minutes, the titan is dead and Jinn is swinging back up into the saddle.

“Lucky guess,” Bozado mutters sullenly.

Corporal Levi does not turn around, and nor does Arden expect him to. After all, she is directly behind him and it seems beneath him to try and twist to see her. “Any others, Black?”

“Not within a thirty-yard vicinity, Corporal,” Arden responds. She can almost predict his next order, because now that she has shown something beyond decent competency, he’s going to press her until she gives everything up.

“You’ll continue to call out threats,” he orders her like clockwork. Arden gives her consent, but chooses to omit anything outside of the ten-yard limit. She still tracks the others, of course, but now is careful to keep them to herself.

Over the next three hours, Arden manages to identify six more titans in time for them to be dispatched safely. Other than completing her order, she stays absolutely silent. Arden is angry because she’s managed to out herself, but all that doesn’t really matter. If she’s kicked out, then so be it. She’ll find a way to hunt titans on her own.

“Corporal—eleven o’clock, ten yards, definite threat,” Arden says. The beast wanders out, unaware of their presence until Ral’s horse neighs.

“Black,” Corporal Levi says. “Take care of it.” She wants to argue—it’s not her job, and if Marlene were to find out she risked herself unnecessarily, she’d be mucking stalls for months. However, the Corporal has given her a direct order, and to defy it would mean serious repercussions.

 _Do it fast_ , Arden decides, ready to move. _Fast and precise._

* * *

 

The brat is gone before Levi can register anything else. He pulls his horse to a stop, and watches the interaction. Levi wishes he could say he was able to watch everything, but in reality, Black is just too damn fast. One second she’s on her horse, the next she’s zipping through the air at a speed Levi hadn’t known possible, and then the second after that, Black is whirling through the air, blades singing as they connect with flesh. The titan falls, steam billowing as it disintegrates. It takes Levi a second to find Black, but she’s standing on a nearby tree branch, and lets out a low whistle.

Her horse whinnies and squeezes out of the formation, moving to stand below the branch. Black removes a dagger from her boot and steps off of the branch, twisting around at a speed that he can barely follow and sinking her dagger into the tree trunk. The friction of the blade slows her descent until her feet gently hit the saddle. Black, balancing perfectly on her horse’s back, removes the dagger from the tree and sheathes it again before sitting down and guiding her horse back to center formation.

“Titan dead, Sir,” she says, and Levi hears the slightest amount of sass in her dull tone. “No immediate threats.” She barely looks ruffled, but Levi notes her pulling at the clasp of her cloak uncomfortably. He never got the chance to determine her technique, but he could tell there was no wasted gas at any point in time.

Levi knows her secret now—the brat obviously held herself back in training. Her reasons are unknown, but he can’t do anything about it out here, so he leaves it be.

* * *

 

The sun has almost finished setting by the time they reach the checkpoint. It’s a small, ratty old village with crumbling buildings. Arden sees the tents and lanterns set up, and suddenly, her nerves are back. Did her friends make it? Are they alive and unwell?

Once inside the village, Arden dismounts from Spirit and moves to find her Captain. Marlene is sitting outside of a tent, face grim. Arden knows she isn’t imagining things when the older woman’s features soften at the sight of Arden leading Spirit over. “Arden Black reporting, Captain,” Arden says.

Marlene nods. “Tie Spirit up with the others, Arden,” she orders. “Then go to sleep immediately. Your friends are about five tents that way.” Arden nods, preparing to set off. A hand on her elbow stops her, and she looks at Marlene expectantly. “You’ve done well, Arden.”

Arden swallows the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Captain,” she says. Marlene lets go of her elbow, and Arden walks off. She ties Spirit with the other, stroking him lovingly as he gulps from the water trough. Once she’s satisfied with his situation, she turns and moves swiftly to find her friends.

Teagan’s soft song is unmistakable, and Arden slips into the tent. They stare at her for a heartbeat, and then Arden is locked in a tangle of limbs. She hugs back, but her present mind is making sure that they are completely unharmed.

“Injuries?” She asks softly, pulling back and scanning. She finds no visible injuries, and her friends confirm her assessment. Arden pulls them back into a hug.

* * *

 

Arden’s eyes follow Teagan’s lax form. The brunette woman is fast asleep, curled up into a tight ball for warmth. Calla is stretched out on her side, playing with her hair ribbon absentmindedly. Arden can’t express how proud she is of her friends for making it this far into the expedition. The relief that filled her when she saw them at the checkpoint, alive and well, almost knocked her to the ground.

“Is it…” Calla begins, capturing Arden’s attention. She looks at the golden-haired woman expectantly, waiting. “ _Wrong_ that I miss my family?”

Arden’s response is immediate. “No, Calla. There is _nothing_ wrong with missing your family.” Calla’s icy-blue eyes lack their typical bite, looking uncertain and lost. She nods, looking back down at the ribbon in her hands, but Arden waits.

“I feel…” Calla trails off, struggling for the right word. Arden knows she struggles with opening herself up, but she waits patiently, because she struggles with it too. “Selfish,” Calla finally finishes. “Father and Mother did everything for me, you know. So I would live comfortably. And I fought them every step of the way without ever considering what _they_ wanted.” She glances up at Arden’s impassive face. “I apologize, Arden. I should not be burdening you with this.”

“Your apology is unnecessary, Calla,” Arden says firmly, face softening. “You know you’re free to be yourself here, no matter what.” Teagan’s tradition she brought from her family is singing, but Calla’s is the trio’s habit of saying _I apologize_ instead of _I’m sorry_. In her family, Calla was expected to use precise language at all times, and the habit carried over into her new family. Most of it fell away with time, only returning when the golden-haired woman was upset or frustrated. The apology always stayed, no matter what, and eventually, Arden and Teagan began saying it too, to make Calla feel welcome.

Calla nods again, pushing herself so she is sitting up. “Do you—” Calla bites her lip, and Arden is suddenly a little apprehensive of the question that will be asked next. “Do you ever miss your family?” Without meaning to, Arden frowns. Calla instantly backtracks. “I apologize, Arden—we don’t have to talk about it here. I know it’s not private.”

Arden makes a conscious effort to soften her features before responding. “Your apology is unnecessary,” she finds herself repeating. “Privacy is an illusion, anyway.” Arden stops to think about the question. Does she miss her family? Arden thinks back to her childhood, the flash of red on sharpened steel and her brother’s wide eyes. The blood staining the splintery boards of the floor, leaking out of bloody gashes, staining her Mother’s white apron she always kept pristine. “To answer your question, no. I can’t say I do. That would be lying.”

She meets Calla’s eyes. The golden-haired woman’s face is hesitant to say anything. “Not even your parents?” She asks. “I know you weren’t exactly civil with your brother at the end, but…”

“You’re right,” Arden admits quietly. “My brother and I did not part ways on the best of terms.” Arden grimaces, because she hates complicated replies. “I don’t have many memories from before.” She doesn’t elaborate, because she doesn’t have to. Calla knows everything. Arden refuses to keep secrets from her friends. They trust her with their lives, so why wouldn’t she return the favor? “The majority of my memory is dark, and it overshadows the good. I do not miss my parents—not the way I remember them.”

Calla’s face is sad, but not sympathetic. Before she can stop herself, Arden leans over Teagan’s sleeping body and tucks a strand of gold hair behind Calla’s ear. “You should sleep,” she advises. “You’ll want to be at your best tomorrow. This expedition is far from over.”

“Yes, Arden,” Calla murmurs in response. As she goes to lay back down, she stops, and looks up at Arden again. “Will you… Do you—you’ll keep watch, right? I know that the titans are inactive at night, but… you’ll keep watch?”

Calla’s face is so open, so raw with uncertainty that Arden’s heart aches. “Of _course_ I will,” she replies firmly. “I promise.” Calla nods, looking less afraid. She moves to lay down again, stretching out with her back to Teagan’s. When the brunette feel’s Calla against her, she stretches out of the tight ball, body relaxing. Within minutes, Calla is asleep. Arden sighs softly, reaching over to pull the blankets up to their chins. Arden presses a feather-soft kiss to each of her friends’ heads and then sits up. “I will _always_ keep watch,” she tells them quietly.

With those final words, Arden settles in for a long night.

* * *

 

Levi, standing outside of the brats’ tent, eavesdrops unabashedly. It’s the first time Black has said anything not pertaining to a factual, logical response. It’s the first time he’s ever heard something in her voice other than dull frustration and distrust. It’s also the first time Curtis has displayed anything other than that snobbish attitude that grates on his nerves.

When it is clear the conversation will no longer continue, Levi starts to turn away to head back to his own tent. There’s really no point, though—he’s never been able to sleep during expeditions. He gets maybe three feet away before rustling behind him grabs his attention. It’s Black—her uniform shirt elsewhere, leaving her in the white tank top females are given to wear underneath their uniform. The top portion to her 3DMG harness is missing, but the belts around her legs mark out dark stripes on the light-colored fabric of the uniform trousers. Her black hair hangs free, falling to her shoulders in glossy waves. The firelight from the lamps posted across the checkpoint flickers across her unguarded face, and she tilts her chin upwards to look at the sky.

Levi glares. He hadn’t thought she would actually follow on her promise to keep watch—for what, he has no idea—and to see her out, not even trying to sleep, puts him on edge. Levi tries to convince himself that it’s because she could get someone killed in the morning when she’s still half asleep. “Oi,” he calls quietly, but keeps his voice hard and his face narrowed into a glare. “Brat. You should be asleep.”

The tired glance Black slides to him catches him off guard. “With all due respect, Corporal,” she begins. “I could say the same for you.”

“Tch.” The annoyed sound leaves his mouth without him realizing, and he stomps over to her. “Listen, Private—you’ll be nothing but dead weight tomorrow if you don’t. I won’t have you killing others with your stupidity. I order you to sleep.” Black meets his gaze for a second before looking up at the sky again, as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Levi bristles, ready to throw a punch.

“Have you ever made a promise, Corporal?” She asks before he can move to complete the instinctual whim. “I apologize, that was out of line. I made a promise to keep watch, and I keep my promises. I mean no disrespect, Sir, but it will take more than one night without sleep to hinder me.”

Levi glares at her for a moment longer. Even if he were to order her to go to bed, he knows that she wouldn’t fall asleep. Instead, he finds himself asking, “How were you able to find all the titans today?”

Black sinks down to the ground, slumping over. “I taught myself how to listen for danger,” is her simple response. “I’m used to such cluttered sounds from the city, from the compound. It’s clearer out here, easier to listen. I can hear more—but that’s also a problem.”

Despite his better instincts, Levi sits next to her, staring up at the stars. “Explain.”

Black sighs. “All the sounds out here are foreign to me,” she begins. “For the first fifteen minutes, I was driving myself insane trying to identify sounds to discern the threats. I adapted and changed my strategy to listen only for sounds of titans and incoming riders. I also set a limit to how close a threat is to me.” Levi listens silently, absorbing all the new information. Black seems much smarter than her training test scores show, and from the way she talks, this is not a new skill picked up from Marlene’s training sessions. It’s also something of a stepping stone—she has never opened up to him like this before. Not that he’s made a particular effort, really, but he _has_ noticed that she and the rest of the shitheads from the 102nd tend to avoid him and Erwin. They’re definitely hiding something.

“Define your distance limits,” Levi orders, trying to get a feel for the strange woman beside him. It was something that bugged him all afternoon, trying to figure out what she deemed to be too close.

“Thirty yards, twenty yards, and ten yards,” is Black’s immediate response. “Twenty-one to thirty is not a threat, but still close enough to take note of. Eleven to twenty is a possible threat to be monitored for abrupt change. Anything ten or less is an immediate threat.” Levi has to admit how smart it is, and it certainly can come in handy.

“Go to bed, Black,” he orders, standing up. “If I see you outside of this tent before sunrise, I’ll have you court martialed.”

Her wry smirk appears and disappears so fast that Levi isn’t sure if he imagined it or not. “Yes, Corporal,” Black replies, standing and sliding back into the tent. There is no further sound, and Levi turns on his heel, setting off for his own tent.

* * *

 

Arden doesn’t leave the tent again until the wakeup call has been given, as instructed. When she wakes her friends up, she says, “The secret is out.” They nod and stay silent, because there really isn’t anything to say. She will take the blame—and whatever the subsequent punishment may be. Arden should have waited to tell them until they returned to the Walls, so as to minimize distraction, but she couldn’t risk not getting to them in time before they’re called in for an investigation. They dress quickly, putting on the 3DMG harness and equipment and packing up their things. They eat a quick ration breakfast like everyone else, and then they saddle up and the formation sets out again.

Squad Levi is silent, like usual, and Arden isn’t sure if she should call out titans still. The sun is on the rise, so the few that are active are out of it and not as much of a threat. If they continue on the course, they’ll meet the supply wagon around midday, then head back to the checkpoint, spend the night again, and return to the Walls. It’s a very tame trip, apparently, but Arden keeps her thoughts to herself. _Titan, eight o’clock, twenty yards, possible threat._ For some reason, Arden feels… _off_. Almost as if her balance is thrown out of whack. She has no idea why, and she certainly can’t focus on it now, but she doesn’t like it.

“Black, take left flank,” Corporal Levi orders, somewhat startling her. Arden’s brain runs through a thousand different reasons, searching for one that fits his new thought process. As she does, she absentmindedly guides Spirit to the new position, but she can’t understand the strange man’s reasoning behind this latest order. Last night she was able to figure out each and every one off his orders. Ordering her to go to bed was simple—he’s not accustomed to her sleep habits, and besides, she slept two full nights before the expedition. Finding the titans was also something Arden expected, and her limits afterwards. She’s showing true potential for once, and he won’t let it go until he knows everything.

Arden half expected him to order her to tell him her backstory, and if he had, she wasn’t sure how she would have responded. She’s not sure of anything anymore, and she hates it. She survives because she’s always three steps ahead of everyone else, always too fast for them to follow, usually strong enough to finish a fight with one decisive move. If she makes it back to the Walls alive, and if she isn’t discharged from the military, she’ll figure this all out. _Titan, one o’clock, eighteen yards, possible threat._

Corporal Levi clears his throat quietly, causing Arden to look over at him expectantly. “Did you sleep at all last night?” He asks, voice quiet enough that the others behind them couldn’t hear.

Arden’s first instinct is to lie, if only to get him off her back, but Arden knows that’s a stupid idea. The look in his eyes as he glances at her tells her that he expects her to lie, and so she needs to tell the truth to be unpredictable. “No, Sir,” she replies, just as quietly. “I told you—I don’t break my promises.”

“A loyal liar,” the Corporal muses aloud. Arden gets the idea that she wasn’t meant to hear him, and so she pretends she didn’t. He’s not entirely wrong about her, she admits to herself. She’s not afraid to cheat, lie, and steal when the situation calls for it. Anything to ensure her survival—anything to ensure Teagan’s continued happiness and Calla’s continued freedom. _Still_ , Arden muses silently. _Not entirely true in this situation, Corporal_. She hasn’t lied once since signing up for the military. She gave the recruiter her real name, her real age. She never once said she was weaker or stronger than she appeared, just simply blended in with those around her. She told the truth about her family, and about how she finds the titans. And when she is inevitably questioned on her skill levels, she will not lie then, either. She will simply explain her philosophy, her reasoning, and let them do the rest.

Misdirection is also a tactic Arden is unafraid to use when she needs to. She’s actually better at it than lying, but it’s almost impossible to tell the difference. Is she actually lying, or just avoiding the truth? Right now, of course, she is avoiding the truth and misdirecting the attention away from her by dumbing herself down to the levels that the Survey Corps authorities expect from her. She’s simply complying with their expectations, nothing more.

Hours later, Arden still has not been ordered to call out threats, so she doesn’t. She keeps them to herself, and Corporal Levi does not order her to take care of another titan. When Mayley comes riding in to deliver the message that the main troupe has found the supply wagon and is turning around, Arden takes off at the Corporal’s glance. She rides Spirit hard, heading north-west for fifteen minutes until she finds Squad Dirk.

Arden pulls Spirit back to a walk, right beside Squad Leader Dirk. “Arden Black reporting from Squad Levi, Sir,” she says, following protocol. “Main troupe has secured the supply wagon. The party is turning around to return to checkpoint.”

Squad Leader Dirk nods at her. “Thank you, Black,” he says. “Return to your post. Wade, pass the message onward.” Arden nods at Wade as he guides Misty to the south, and she pulls Spirit to the south east. They travel together in silence for a few minutes, but then Arden splits off to return to her post. They are standing still, waiting for her, already turned around to head back to checkpoint. As soon as she returns to position, Corporal Levi spurs his horse into motion again.

Arden takes solace in the silence. Silence means she is not in danger, though she still keeps track of the titans around her. Silence means that there are no messengers bearing bad news. Silence means that Calla and Teagan are probably okay. Any disasters would be reported straight to main troupe, where Commander Smith and Captain Marlene are, and then it will be passed on to the other squads. Arden has already conditioned herself that, in event of something happening to Squad Hanji, where Calla is, or Squad Nanaba, where Teagan is, she will immediately assume they are dead and move on.

Easier to spare herself the downfall of hope when she finds out they really did die.

They encounter no less than eighteen titans on their way back to the checkpoint, none of which Arden assists with. She can’t tell why Corporal Levi keeps sending furtive glances at her, as if waiting for her to break down. As far as expeditions go, this is a relatively tame one, from what she has been able to gather. No more than three days maximum, travelling through well-known territory, and minimal risk. Arden hasn’t seen anything yet, a fact that she is grimly aware of, and for once, she’s frustrated at being placed with the elite squad. She’ll never get used to the bloodshed out here if she never sees it.

 _Titan, nine o’clock, thirty yards, not a threat_.

The sudden urge to sing fills her chest, and Arden stomps it down viciously. Now is not—and will _never_ be—the time for such things. Arden looks down and notices her hands shaking violently, Spirit’s ears turned back to her in concern as he feels the motion in the reins and it’s not one he knows. Arden’s frown is so minute it’s barely there, and makes a mental effort to still her hands. The shaking stops, and she looks up again. They find a flowing stream, and the Corporal looks up at the sky.

He pulls the formation to a stop. “Dismount,” he orders. “Let the horses drink their fill. We leave in five.” Arden gladly swings herself off of Spirit, and he moves towards the stream without encouragement. She watches him fondly before turning to check her gear. Arden’s gear has been slightly modified—by her own hand, of course. She’s tightened the recoil of her wires by a minute fraction. It’s well-known that if the recoil is too loose, then the wires will return slowly and make it difficult to maneuver with. If it’s too tight, the wires will snap and send the user plummeting to the ground in a nasty fall. Arden, however, by sheer accident in her childhood, found the precise point between _balanced_ and _too tight_ , giving her an extra speed boost that no one else can ever hope to achieve without wasting gas. In fact, the speed which her grappling hooks are usually enough for basic motions, only using enough gas to get her small frame over or around obstacles.

She feels Corporal Levi’s eyes on her, but refuses to acknowledge him. Arden checks her blades and her unused gas tanks out of habit, and then moves over to where Spirit is still drinking. She touches his flank to alert him to her presence and digs through her meager supplies, checking that she still has everything. Anything to keep herself busy and away from the others. Arden has never been much of a team player, always a little antisocial. Teagan was there for her when she had no one else, and was her only source of food and human contact within that first year of living on the Surface. Calla hadn’t been as welcome—a snobbish, unknown factor that couldn’t be controlled, but Teagan brought her around eventually. Arden simply doesn’t trust people. The titans may be beasts, but humans can be _monsters_.

While she had been thinking, the other part of her brain has been clocking the titan heading towards them, coming in at an angle from across the stream.

* * *

 

Levi almost doesn’t see the titan at all. The thing is abnormally silent—a trait that makes makes him think it’s a deviant. It’s headed straight for Black, who is busy digging around in her pack, seemingly unaware of the danger less than three feet away. Levi curses and goes for his gear, clocking possible places to maneuver off of, but finds a depressingly sparse scattering of trees that won’t let him get to her in time without using an obscene amount of gas.

Black yanks herself away from the horse, her palm connecting with it’s rear end and causing it to leap out of harm’s way. This time, Levi is able to see everything she does, but her motions are still extremely fast, almost blurring at certain moments. In the same movement that had sent her horse leaping away to a safer distance, Black swings around and ducks underneath the meaty hand reaching for her. There’s the sharp sound of hooks sinking into flesh, and then the titan screams. Black’s body is launched through the air at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible. Her feet touch the titan’s chest, one cord recoiling sharply only to sink again into the thing’s shoulder, the second one recoiling, and Black uses a small burst of gas to swing her body up and over the still-crouching titan. It’s barely had the chance to retract its hand back towards the original site her grappling hooks connected with its body, just too damn slow to keep up with her fucking _speed_. The amount of mental focus it must take to see things clearly at that speed has to be off the charts.

Levi stands, frozen, as she retracts her first wire and then fires both into the titan’s shoulders, propelling herself downwards and pulling her blades out, descending in a righteous fury of sharpened metal. At the last second, her wires recoil and her blades slice across the nape of the titan’s neck. Black’s boots slam into the body with extreme strength, forcing it downwards. Her spin is alarmingly similar to his, Levi notes, but with differences that stick out. For one, both of Black’s blades cut across the neck in the same time, pulled in opposite directions, her body arching and curving to give her that extra second of air time to pull out her blades before straightening out.

The titan hits the ground, face-first, and Black spits on the thing’s disintegrating body after she jumps to the ground. “Dirty fucking _beast_ ,” she snarls lowly, face twisted into one of rage and disgust. Then, she bends down to clean the blades on the grass before sheathing them once again, returning her gear to stand-by. Her face is still and emotionless, as if nothing had happened, and her damn horse trots over to her, circling around her protectively.

Black, unphased, reaches out and grasps the reins, pulling the thing still. She clicks her tongue and the horse lifts its foreleg, curling its hoof backwards. Black uses the offered appendage to boost herself up into the saddle. She settles down and looks at him expectantly—almost _defiantly_ —waiting for him to say something. That technique by itself is enough to tell Levi that she is definitely beyond the skill she displayed in training, but her speed is another matter entirely. She’s dauntless and deadly, two traits that he both admires and hates.

Levi glares at her. “Saddle up,” he orders his squad. “We’re leaving.”

* * *

 

 _Maybe I shouldn’t have waited as long to react_ , Arden muses silently as they ride at a faster pace, closing in on the checkpoint. _What does it matter? I’ve already fucked myself anyway_. Corporal Levi has been scarily silent about her skills, which tells her that he’s planning something. She feels the stares of Squad Levi boring into her back, but the Corporal no longer glances at her.

They ride into checkpoint just before Squad Dirk, and Arden checks in with Marlene before taking care of Spirit and heading to find her friends. They’re sitting underneath a tree—Sam, Jack, and Mark with them. They all look a little worse for wear, and she can tell they’ve seen things she hasn’t.

Arden sits down on a stone between Calla and Teagan. She links her fingers with Calla’s and slips her arm around Teagan’s waist, pulling the brunette woman close. They don’t question it, leaning into her. Teagan reaches out and pulls Jack to her other side, and the boy drags Mark over as well. Arden invites Sam silently, and the black-haired girl stands and moves closer, until they are huddling together. Arden doesn’t care if they look odd, or weak. Against all odds, they’ve survived this far into their first expedition. As far as Arden is concerned, they deserve this.

“We’ve gotten this far,” Calla breathes. “We can make it back.” Arden watches a tear slide down Jack’s face, followed by another, but she can’t tell if they’re from relief or fear. Mark holds the other boy tighter, and Arden squishes everyone in tighter in response. Despite her best efforts, she cares for the three mysteries that have managed to attach themselves to her. They have been nothing but kind and selfless, and Arden respects their skill.

* * *

 

“This has to be the first time we’ve ever kept all of our new recruits on their first expedition,” Erwin marvels aloud. Levi scowls at the huddle under the tree. “Maybe they’re different.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “They have fucking skill,” he points out dryly. “At any rate, I’d say you almost lost one today, but it seems the brat has been holding back.”

Erwin looks at him. “Black,” he states. Levi nods. “How so?”

“We stopped at a stream to let the horses drink,” Levi starts, folding his arms across his chest. “Black was messing with her things when a deviant came out of nowhere straight for her. She sent her horse away, rappelled to it’s chest, then up and over its shoulder, and killed it in two minutes flat. There is no way she has that kind of speed and technique and only ranked eleventh in training. She’s also able to more or less track titans within a thirty-yard vicinity, and categorizes them into threat levels—by _hearing_. She held herself back in training.”

Erwin turns to look back at the group. Black is staring at them now, eyes burning from across the checkpoint. “Then it’s safe to assume Marlow and Curtis did, too,” he says thoughtfully. “And I have a feeling that Larson, Fischbach, and McLoughlin knew about it. Have they been avoiding you?” Levi nods, not really caring if Erwin sees. Black turns away when Marlow touches her shoulder and says something, before all six stand and move towards the tents. Black glances at them one last time, and Levi swears she’s heard every word they’ve said—her eyes are challenging him, practically _begging_ him to do something. Levi glares, grinding his teeth together, and Black ducks into her tent.

 _I saw that damn smirk_ , Levi seethes silently. He wants nothing more than to push her until she breaks, to get a glimpse of her true personality underneath the emotionless facade that Levi is sure she’s been building up for years.

His only consolation is that if Black makes it back to the Walls, he’ll get the chance to.

* * *

 

Arden lets out a sigh of relief as they ride back into the safety of Wall Maria. She feels the tense set of her shoulders, which seemed to be a permanent state during the expedition, slowly relax. She’s going to be stiff for a few days, but luckily, that’s it. People gather and stare. They lost sixteen people over the course of just three days—Arden can’t fathom how many must usually die during the extended expeditions, which last anywhere from a week to a month.

Arden is discharged from Corporal Levi’s squad and returns to Marlene, who nods at her. The others slowly join the pair. First Wade, then Sarah, followed by Ogden and Mayley. Arden swallows grimly when she spots Janice’s horse, Benny, riderless. She’d gotten caught whilst delivering a message. Her horse returned to Marlene without her. Marlene had taken her post with Squad Klaus for the duration of the expedition, and now they’re a member short. Arden can’t particularly say she’s upset by the loss—out of everyone on her squad, Janice had actively gone out of her way to avoid Arden. No one understood it, but Arden didn’t take it personally. Whatever Janice’s reason, it didn’t matter now.

Arden finds Teagan and Calla easily, listlessly guiding their horses to follow the group. Sam is a few feet to her left, face grim. She spots Mark up ahead, near Calla, and Jack is right behind her, slumping against his horse.

Everyone swarms the stables, which have been cleaned and stocked in preparation for their arrival. Arden removes her supplies and the tack, but leaves them in the stall before leading Spirit out to  the bathing area. He’s exhausted, but covered in sweat and dirt, and she can’t leave him like that. “Arden?” Teagan says from behind her. “They have dinner ready in the mess hall.”

Arden glances up from where she’s filling a bucket with sudsy water. “Take Calla and go,” she orders softly. “I’ll join you when I’m done here.” Teagan nods and turns away. Arden makes sure Spirit is absolutely clean before pulling him back into the stall. As she turns to leave to clean the tack, he nuzzles her shoulder gratefully. Arden strokes his nose before closing and locking the stall, leaving Spirit in peace. She cleans the tack and collects her bedroll, dragging her stiff body into the compound. She debates taking her bedroll back to her room, but her stomach growls so loudly she changes course and heads directly for the canteen. She is handed a plate and drags herself over to her usual table, where the rest of the 102nd are sitting.

When she sits down, they all look at one another and let out a heavy breath.


	10. Don't Hold Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden, Calla, and Teagan must now face the consequences of maintaining adequate compliance for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that might surface.

Those who went on the expedition are given four days off. Arden wishes she could enjoy them, but she hates down time and she’s waiting for the call to Commander Smith’s office. Currently, she, Calla, and Teagan are in their room, where they have been since breakfast.

Arden is attempting to read her book, but is distracted by her own thoughts. “Calla, Teagan,” she says after reading a paragraph for the fifth time without understanding a word. Teagan, who is drawing at the desk, looks up expectantly. Calla, sat on her bunk and writing in her journal, puts down her quill and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before following suit. Arden frowns. “They’re likely to call for us soon. If they re-evaluate you two, don’t hold back.”

“What about you?” Teagan asks, face devoid of her typical smile.

Arden marks her page and sets the book aside. “I can’t say for sure,” she admits honestly. “I don’t know how this system works. I may be suspended, but I might be discharged for lying. If that happens, my orders still remain. Don’t hold back. Survive. I will find a way to you outside the Walls.” Neither of them look happy at the information, and Arden can’t say it particularly pleases her, either. At the same time, she knows they will do as she says.

There’s a knock on their door. Teagan bounces up from the desk and over to open it, revealing none other than Corporal Levi. Teagan salutes immediately, and Calla scrambles to attention. Arden’s situation on the top bunk takes a bit longer, but she climbs down and salutes as well.

The man stalks into the room, eyes directly on her, and stops six inches away from where she stands. “Report to training sector five,” he orders, face cold and voice hard. “All three of you. _Now_.” No one says a word as they follow the Corporal out to sector five, where his squad trains. People move aside and stare as they pass, whispering. Jack happens to be near the door to the training fields and looks as though he wants to intervene. Arden isn’t sure what stops him. Did he remember his promise to not get himself in trouble? Did Teagan tip him off? Either way, he closes his mouth and turns away, heading towards the canteen. Corporal Levi pays him no attention, shoving open the door and striding outside. Arden catches the door before it can close, slipping out and holding it open so Calla can grab it. When the Corporal stops, Arden stops, and stands at attention. Calla falls into place on her left, and Teagan takes her spot on the right.

The Corporal is standing in front of them, stoic faced pinched into a furious glare. After a few minutes, he stalks forward until he is right in Arden’s face. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. “Adequate and compliant indeed,” he says. Arden vaguely wonders how he knows. His voice is cold and hard like steel, sharp as a blade. Most would be scared, but Arden is simply apprehensive. What will her punishment be? Will she be discharged? “I want to know why you found it necessary to hold yourselves back during training.”

Calla speaks up. “I don’t understand the question, Sir,” she begins. Corporal Levi’s eyes never leave Arden’s. “We trained as hard as everyone else. Have we been given false marks?” He doesn’t reply, simply staring and waiting. Arden isn’t the least bit intimidated, but she is tired of playing the charade.

“It is my personal policy to never be the best at something, Corporal,” Arden finally replies. “Even if you are. I forced Private Marlow and Private Curtis to do the same.”

His eyes narrow, face moving a mere four inches from hers. She can taste the tea on his breath, Arden realizes, and it’s not something that she expects. He smells like lemongrass and something sharp that Arden can’t identify—almost like a cleaning agent. “Well, Black,” he states quietly. Arden finds his quiet tone more intimidating than when he was yelling. People who yell are up front about what they will do—people who are quiet are planning something horrible. “Because of you, all three of you will be getting re-evaluated. _Separately_.” Arden keeps her face blank as Ackerman leans back. “Curtis, step forward.”

Calla does as she is told, and just as she is about to salute, Corporal Levi throws a lightning quick punch. Arden’s eyes blaze when it connects with Calla’s chest and sends her sprawling, gasping for air. Calla struggles to stand, and Arden’s fists tighten so that her nails dig into her palms, almost drawing blood when Ackerman kicks her friend’s hip violently.

Calla is strong. Arden trained her, and she can take a blow or two. But that surprise attack had knocked the wind out of her lungs, and now she’s getting assaulted. _Her family is getting assaulted_. Arden moves swiftly as Ackerman pulls his foot back again, eyes cold and uncaring. Arden knocks his foot aside with her own, fist connecting with his jaw with all her strength.

* * *

 

Levi stares, shocked at stinging pain in his jaw. He hadn’t even seen Black move, but now she is standing protectively in front of Curtis, a cold fire blazing in her pale green eyes. This is what he wanted—a true gut reaction, not a calculated chess play. If he had ordered Black to attack him full strength, she would have, but that would still be complying with orders. He needs to see her true personality. He also knew she was fast on her horse and with her gear, but it seems that trait also carries over to other aspects of this woman—her strength, on the other hand, is completely unexpected.

His moment of hesitation ends, and Levi lunges. Black dodges and blocks his barrage of blows, playing defense. She never strays too far from Curtis’s limp form on the ground, purely in a protective mode. He throws another punch, and she moves to block it from hitting her kidney, but Levi quickly changes tactics and grabs her wrist, yanking her harshly away from Curtis, like he’s going to continue to attack her.

Black _snarls_ , the sound low in her chest, and she slips her wrist free as if he didn’t have an iron grip on in. Her first punch lands squarely on his cheek, almost breaking his nose. It is followed by a harsh kick to the back of his knee, forcing his leg to buckle and leaving him half kneeling on the ground. The next thing Levi knows is that Black has him in a deceptively strong headlock, and two fingers are pressing sharply into a point behind his ear, and sharp stabs of pain attack his neck. Levi grunts, fighting through the pain, and pulls his elbow back with everything in his body, the sharp point hitting Black’s solar plexus. The breath leaves her body in a rush, which, oddly enough, seems to be the only reason she lets go. Levi is quick to stand, shaking off any residual waves of pain, and whirls to get his eyes on Black. She isn’t even holding her injured side. A blow like that has sent fully grown men to the ground.

Black isn’t phased in the slightest. She lunges in, so fast even Levi has problems following her movements. He manages to block the punch aimed for his kidney, and lean back far enough to miss her other hand heading for his nose. Before she can recover, Levi brings his leg up and slams it into Black’s stomach, forcing her back quite far. Black continues to attack, and Levi realizes that he’s going to have to put her down and hold her there. He wanted a gut reaction, but he probably shouldn’t have provoked her this far. The next time she rushes Levi, he attempts to clothesline her, but she ducks underneath and whirls to kick his back. Anticipating it, Levi dodges and spins, smacking her head. He grabs ahold of one of her twintails and yanks her down with all of his strength, until her back hits the dusty ground. Levi struggles for a moment to pin her arms and legs, eventually being forced to straddle her, one of his knees on each of her hands.

Black glares at him spitefully. “You think this is the first time I’ve been under someone stronger than me?” She asks. Her voice is still calm, and her eyes are perfectly clear. Levi realizes that she has been in complete control of herself the whole time, and that is even scarier than her being unhinged. Levi realizes his mistake a fraction too late, and then his vision whites out briefly as Black’s foot connects harshly with the back of his skull. He feels himself hit the ground as he tries to recover, and then his cravat is tightening around his neck to the point he can’t breathe.

Survival instincts kicking in, Levi reaches behind him, grabs anything he can, and hauls Black over his head. She hits the ground, her skull cracking against the hard dirt, and she is unconscious. Slowly, Levi stands. He’s breathing hard, and that has to be the biggest challenge a simple private has given him ever. Actually, that has to be the biggest challenge he’s faced yet.

He looks at Curtis, who is sitting on the ground, glaring at him hatefully. He gets the feeling it’s not for attacking her. “Can you stand?” He asks, breathing hard. Just as slow as he had been seconds ago, Curtis pushes herself to her feet. “Good. Both of you take Black to the infirmary and report back here to continue your re-evaluations.”

“All due respect, _Sir_ ,” Calla sneers. “You should learn your facts. One of us needs to stay and inform the nurses of Arden’s injuries.”

Levi glares. “Explain,” he grinds out, patience pushed to the limits.

Marlow, lacking her typical smile, says, “Sir, Private Black has a medical condition that prevents her from feeling pain. She can’t tell if anything is broken or seriously injured on her own, especially if she’s unconscious. We need to report where she was hit so that the nurses can check over her.”

Why _didn’t_ he know that? Levi prides himself on knowing the shits under his command. That would explain Black’s resistance to any pain during the fight. “Fine,” he sighs. “Curtis, stay with Black. Marlow, report back here for re-evaluation.” Marlow salutes, and Curtis follows unwillingly. Then the two pick up Black’s lifeless body and carry her off.

* * *

 

Arden wakes up slowly, any trace of her former violence gone. She remembers everything—the re-evaluation, the fight, being knocked out. She can only assume she’s in the infirmary, because that is where any injuries she may have obtained will be treated. “You’re cleared for training.” Calla’s voice is low and soothing, so as to not startle Arden. “You’ll have some nasty bruises for awhile, and you have a slight concussion, but you’re cleared for training.”

“Okay.” Arden’s voice has lost the raging hatred, returning to the dull, monotonous tone. She sits up on the cot, and though a few of the nurses glance at her, they don’t say anything.

Calla sighs. “Teagan’s finished her re-evaluation. Everything went fine. _She’s_ fine,” the woman clarifies. “Mine is tomorrow. Yours the day after.” Arden doesn’t respond, standing up and beginning to pull her 3DMG harness and boots back on. The same scene replays in her mind, over and over: the dark glint in the Lance Corporal’s eyes, her hands grasping his cravat, pulling it taught; his hands grasping her wrist and the collar of her shirt, and then weightlessness. She remembers the impact of her body on the ground, and then darkness.

When she is ready, Arden looks into Calla’s eyes. “Are _you_ okay?” Calla doesn’t verbally respond, but reaches up and unbuttons the top three buttons of her shirt, pulling the fabric aside to show her chest. There is a red area in the center of her fair skin, gradually turning a deep purple at the edges. Arden inspects the area carefully, probing with gentle fingers and watching her friend’s face.

“There’s one on my hip, too,” Calla says quietly. Arden nods, frowning, and steps back. Calla buttons her shirt up again. Arden is upset, but only at herself. If she had read the Corporal right, if she had been _faster_ , she could have prevented these injuries. “They’ll heal, Arden. They’re _not_ your fault.”

Arden glances at the clock and notes that dinner will be starting soon. “Are you hungry?” Calla nods. “I apologize for not being fast enough to prevent your injuries, Calla.”

Calla reaches out and grabs Arden’s hand. “Your apology is unnecessary, Arden,” she replies. “I already told you that it wasn’t your fault. That _bastard_ is the one who threw the punches, and I wasn’t ready for it. If anything, I failed because I didn’t follow your lessons.” Arden wants to correct her, but before she can, Calla pulls her out of the infirmary and they set off down the hall. There shouldn’t have been any reason to prepare herself for a fight—but of course, Arden hadn’t read Corporal Levi’s personality right. He hadn’t shown any signs of violence thus far, so why now?

 _Unless_ , Arden thinks, the idea coming to her gradually. _He was trying to get me to react out of emotion. But why? To get me to use my full abilities, maybe, but he could have just ordered me and gotten the same reaction._

Mindlessly, turning over the scenario in her head, Arden collects her food and follows Calla to their table. Teagan is the only one there, and the nervous look on her face is enough to snap Arden out of her thoughts. Without a word, she begins running her hands over the brunette woman, checking for scratches, bruises, and broken bones. Anything else to give her a reason for being angry at herself. To Teagan’s credit, she just lets Arden to what she needs to do without a word and without resisting. Arden finds nothing out of the ordinary with Teagan, which both relieves and frustrates her immensely. She’s relieved, because Teagan is perfectly fine and is uninjured. She’s frustrated because she really doesn’t know who to blame for Calla’s injuries. Arden wants to blame herself, obviously, but she knows her golden-haired friend is right: there was no way she could have known the Corporal would throw a punch uncalled for like that. The next best option is Corporal Levi himself, who administered the damage—but she suspects that it had nothing to do with spite. He was testing her somehow, and Calla just happened to take the fall for it.

Mindlessly, Arden brushes a strand of Teagan’s hair behind her ear and sits, beginning to eat her food. This time, instead of sitting with her back to the corner, she pushes her friends towards her normal seat and sits protectively on the other side of the table, ready to take any blows that may come their way.

“I didn’t hold back,” Teagan says after a few more minutes of silence. “He had me fight against him, but he kept it light and I stayed mostly on defense.”

Arden nods. “Good job, Tee,” she murmurs, the nickname rolling off her tongue before she can stop it. She hasn’t used it in years, mostly because Teagan is not a scared little girl anymore who takes comfort in the name her mother used to use.

“ _I_ won’t be staying on defense,” Calla mutters sullenly. “I’ve got a few bruises to return. I apologize, Arden, but I won’t just take that and move on.” Arden expects nothing less. She didn’t just teach them how to _fight_ , she taught them how to win. She taught them how to make sure their opponent will not be able to get in a final blow. Arden knows Calla, though strong, is not strong enough to take on Humanity’s Strongest Soldier in an actual fight, but she will certainly return the bruises she received today.

“Your apology is unnecessary, Calla,” Arden replies. “Just don’t let yourself be blinded by revenge. I won’t be allowed to watch.” Calla nods. They eat in silence, but Arden can feel eyes boring into the back of her head. She resists the urge to turn and see who it is—besides, there’s really only one person who would logically stare. Her mixed emotions about him frustrates her—Arden respects his strength and skill, but his position of authority over her and his continued acts of putting her and her friends in harm’s way makes her want to hurt him.

Mulling over the strange situation, Arden chews on a bite of her dinner without actually tasting it. She has a full day to properly prepare herself for her own re-evaluation, and she is determined to show everyone just how good she actually is. Up until the expedition, everything she’d done was calculated and less than half-assed. She’s _tired_ of it—tired of _hiding_ like a goddamn _coward_. She is strong, she is smart, and above all else, Arden is _fast_.

 _I believe it’s time that_ everyone _knows it_ , Arden thinks.

* * *

 

Calla passes her re-evaluation with flying colors, and Arden observes the bruise forming on Corporal Levi’s cheek with a sense of pride. It’s small and will fade within a few days, but it’s there nonetheless—and at Calla’s own hand.

After breakfast, Arden is told to report to Corporal Levi’s office for her strategy exams. She feels a sense of calm, the emotion that often replaces her excitement. Just as adrenaline mixes with her fear, calm replaces her excitement. Arden is well-aware of her strange emotions, but she’s lived with them her whole life and to her, they’re completely normal. Calla and Teagan bid her a silent goodbye as they go their separate ways outside of the canteen. Arden moves briskly towards the North Wing, where the officers’ quarters and offices are located.

It isn’t difficult to find the correct hall that Corporal Levi resides in—it’s leagues cleaner than everywhere else, a testament to the shorter man’s obsessive need to clean. She finds his office just minutes later and knocks twice.

“Name and business,” Corporal Levi’s voice calls from the other side. It’s a very typical response—one that Arden would suspect from him. He is very distant, very cold and angry. He is also very structured in how he handles everything. The cleanliness, the strict regime he has his squad on. Arden can respect that.

“Arden Black, Corporal,” Arden replies evenly. “You directed me to join you after breakfast.”

It takes a few more seconds, but the Corporal calls, “Enter.” Arden lifts her hand and turns the doorknob, pushing the wooden slab inwards and stepping into the room. She makes sure to close the door behind her and stands at attention. He is sitting at his desk, which is kept immaculately clean and straight, much like the rest of the room. She doesn’t stop to take in meaningless details—there is a bookshelf to her right, which she can topple on top of an opponent. There is a sofa, which she can use as a barrier between herself and an opponent. The door is of course behind her, a window behind Corporal Levi, his desk, a coffee table, and an empty chair. All things she can use to help herself in a fight, or escape from one if need be.

Corporal Levi clears his throat, and her eyes flit back to his figure. “Sit,” he orders. “You’ll be re-taking your strategy assessment. You have an hour.” Arden says nothing as she walks across the room to sit at the open seat across from him. The Corporal slides a thick packet towards her, followed by an inkwell and a quill. Arden sequesters herself to a solitary corner of his desk so as to keep out of his way. If he notices, Corporal Levi says nothing. She opens the inkwell, dips the quill in, and then sets to work.

* * *

 

 _Why the hell is she staying in that damn corner_? Levi wonders, watching her scribble away decisively for a couple of minutes. Curtis has purposely taken up as much space as she could, trying to spite him. Marlow had nervously stayed precisely where he put the assessment, furtively casting glances up at him. Black never once looks up at him, and for the complete hour, they stay that way: her completing the assessment, and him watching her. Black keeps her back straight, chin tipped down. For the first half hour, she writes with her right hand, and then switches halfway through.

 _Ambidextrous_. Levi doesn’t get the feeling that she’s trying to show off. She’s just doing what occurs naturally to her. One hand gets tired, switch to the other one. Levi isn’t very strong with his left hand outside of the maneuver gear, but he can definitely see the benefits, considering how much damn paperwork he deals with on a daily basis.

At the precise one-hour mark, Black cleans her quill, closes the inkwell, and hands the assessment over. Levi takes it. “Get your gear and meet me at training sector five in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice is hard and unwavering. Black stands, pushes the chair in, and takes her leave. Levi turns his focus to the packet in his hand and begins flipping through it. Black’s handwriting is decent, which tells him that she knows how, yet rarely practices. Curtis’s was elegant, speaking leagues of her high-and-mighty education. Levi isn’t the least bit surprised to see that Black’s responses are tactical, logical, and damn-near perfect. Her marks are higher than both Curtis and Marlow’s.

“Tch.” Levi puts the packet in her file for later and stands, heading for the training grounds.

* * *

 

Arden is at the training grounds before Corporal Levi, but she stands at attention until he arrives. There are four main aspects to evaluations: strategy, stamina, strength, and 3DMG. It’s hard to tell which one she’ll be expected to complete next, but it won’t really matter. She’ll complete each one without issue, no matter what.

Corporal Levi stares at her, face impassive. Arden matches his gaze. If he wants a pissing match, she’ll oblige him. “Run the course, Black,” Corporal Levi orders. “If you try to falsify your results, you’ll be court martialed.” _I’ve seen your skill_. The words go unsaid, but Arden knows they’re there.

“Yes, Sir.” Arden drops her salute and moves towards the training course. She sees the rest of the Special Operations Squad dotted about, trying—and failing—to hide amongst the foliage, ready to try and catch her off-guard. That will not happen. Determined, Arden rappels up to the starting point. She pulls out a set of blades, grimacing at the awkward weight. Automatically, she shifts her grip so the blades are held behind her, allowing for her short stature to keep hold of them without risking injury to herself. When you’re ten years old and trying to teach yourself how to use complicated gear, you do what works, even if it’s wrong. During training, she made sure to hold them how they’re supposed to be held, which helped aid her in appearing mediocre.

 _Not today_ , Arden thinks, adrenaline spiking.

The signal is given, and she takes off like a shot. Over, under, twist, arch her back, and then make the kill. Her blades slice clean down to the wood, and then Arden moves onto the next. The speed she is travelling at would turn everything into a blur for anyone else, but this is how Arden _lives_. If she’s always faster, always smarter, usually stronger than her opponent, then she will survive with the bare minimum of injuries.

The wooden titan is swung out in front of her from her blind spot. Without flinching, Arden retracts both hooks and plummets, dropping like a stone. Three feet above the ground, directly underneath the fake arm, Arden fires one of her hooks directly upwards, latching into the titan. She allows her momentum to pull her up and over, arching her body to get maximum air time, before sending her other hook into the fake shoulder and going in for the kill.

Arden isn’t stupid. This training course is actually harder than finding real titans—the goddamn boards are completely silent, which puts her at a slight disadvantage. She sees the body zipping from her right to cut her off. Thinking fast and moving faster, Arden grapples up to a tree branch and lets her gear do the rest. It yanks her up and into the clear, giving her the perfect view of the next three titans. She takes them out quickly, moving from one to the next without issue.

She hears the zip of 3DMG wires from below her and instantly veers to the right by grappling to a different tree and pressing her body aside. The person flies upwards, right beside her, and Arden moves on. She doesn’t have the time to stop and think about _why_ Squad Levi is trying to sabotage her, but they’re really no more than little flies buzzing about. Titan to her left—quickly dispatched. She ducks through a thick patch of foliage, and when she emerges on the other side, she takes out two more before skillfully avoiding the two people attempting to clothesline her with their lines.

Her feet touch the finish point after clearing the last of the titans, and Corporal Levi touches down a minute and a half behind her. Without a word, he strides forward and handles her gear, checking the quality of the blades and the amount of gas still in her tanks. He makes a note of it and then releases her for lunch. She is to return to training sector five after she has finished, and is not allowed to speak of anything about the re-evaluation. In order to keep up appearances, Arden sits by herself, away from Teagan, Calla, Mark, Sam, and Jack. Corporal Levi watches her the whole time, and she boldly returns his stare, completely unbothered.

After lunch, Arden is instructed to run through her stamina exercises, consisting of laps carrying supplies. It blows by in a breeze, barely leaving her winded. Then she is instructed to divest herself of her gear and supplies and prepare herself to fight. Arden also takes off her jacket, folding it neatly over a bench. People have gathered to see the fight—and from the wink that Teagan sends her, it’s no accident. Arden ignores her slowly-growing audience, stretching her shoulders and cracking her neck before settling into her usual defensive position. In front of her, Corporal Levi has also removed his jacket and is standing ready. With an unspoken agreement, they begin circling.

Arden knows that the Corporal is extremely strong, and even though she cannot feel pain, she can still obtain potentially dangerous injuries. She should stay on defensive and aim for pressure points, where a small amount of force will go a lot farther than a punch to the jaw. After a few tense moments, her opponent loses his patience and moves forward to strike. _He’s fast_ , Arden admits to herself. _But I’m faster_. She easily dodges and moves to hit the pressure point that he exposed with the movement, just inside his elbow. She jams two fingers in hard and fast before dancing back out of reach whilst he recovers. Corporal Levi shakes off the pain quickly, to his credit, and swings again. Arden ducks and pulls her leg around, striking the back of his knee. It buckles, but he brings it back by pressing his fingers to the dirt and swings his leg, forcing her to jump.

He rights himself, and they begin circling again. “Come on!” Someone calls. “Fight each other!” Corporal Levi lunges again, and this time, he doesn’t relent. Arden dodges the barrage of blows aimed for her chest, sides, and face with ease, waiting for an opening to return the favor.

It never comes.

Arden realizes that he knows she’ll likely stay on defense, and is using her method against her. He wants to tire her out—quite a feat, if she’s being honest—and she knows she’ll have to re-think her strategy. Arden isn’t strong enough to beat the Corporal with sheer force, if their last match is anything to go by. He’s also smarter than she gave him credit for, which means she’ll have to rely on her speed to get her out of this with minimal injury.

So, when the next punch aimed for her face comes, Arden ducks to the side and shoots her hand up to grasp his wrist, squeezing tight and pressing her thumb into the vein harshly, immobilizing the hand. Using her new grip as leverage, Arden swings herself around and throws her body into the air, pulling herself up onto her opponent’s shoulders. She’s only ever used this move on someone much bigger than her, so the Corporal’s lack of height is refreshing and easier to maneuver. Arden delivers three quick jabs: one behind each ear, where the jaw and skull meet; the third to a nerve where the neck meets the shoulders. Just as fast as she had gotten herself up there, Arden releases her opponent’s wrist and drops backwards, hitting the ground with her hands first and flipping over herself to stand again.

Before Corporal Levi has a chance to shake off the pain from her strikes, Arden lands a quick kick to the back of his knee again, and he hits the ground with far less control this time. Arden pounces, locking her thighs across his waist and throwing punch after punch. He manages to block most of them, and the ones he doesn’t are only half-intensity. She doesn’t need to permanently his face. She feels Corporal Levi’s body tense underneath her and prepares herself for the inevitable. It comes seconds later, and he tosses her off of him. Arden rolls, back on her feet within seconds and running for the attack again.

What she ends up doing is tackling him to the ground again, where they grapple for the upper hand for a while. Arden isn’t sure when this assessment is supposed to end. In training, it ends when someone is disarmed or pinned. She can only assume that rule extends here, too. Arden knows she can’t win this fight fairly, and she’s actually kept everything pretty tame.

Everything ends when the Corporal pins her arms to the ground, his weight resting solidly on top of her, firmly holding her legs down with his. “You and your friends will report to my office tomorrow morning to receive your new squad postings. Dismissed.” He releases her and stands, picking up his jacket and stalking off. Arden lets out a breath and pushes herself to her feet. She’s greeted by Teagan, who helps her to her feet, and then Calla hands over her jacket.

“Corporal Levi requests our presence in his office tomorrow morning,” Arden tells them. “Apparently, we’re getting new squads.”


	11. New Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new squad means new ways, and so the trio must now adapt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that appear.

When Arden wakes her friends in the morning, she finds herself almost dreading what the day has in store for them. She doesn’t necessarily _want_ a new squad—she’s happy in Squad Marlene, where she is respected and even accepted by everyone. Besides, if it means she keeps her interactions with Corporal Levi at a minimum, then that’s even better to her.

She climbs down from her bunk and moves around the post to shake Teagan’s leg. The woman stirs, groans, and twists around so her back is now facing Arden, who rolls her eyes. One would think after years of waking up early that Teagan would no longer complain—but it hasn’t happened yet, and Arden doubts it ever will. “Calla, get her up. We need to shower and get to breakfast.” Calla sighs, but rolls out of bed and gets up. Grabbing her pillow, the golden-haired woman smacks it against Teagan’s face a couple of times, much to Arden’s amusement.

“ _Okay_ , I’m up,” Teagan whines, batting the offending object away and sitting up. Arden moves to collect her uniform for the day, her boots, and her 3DMG harness, and then waits patiently for her friends to do the same. She leads the way to the showers, sets her belongings down on the bench, and strips out of her sleepclothes. Arden picks a shower and hits the valve to begin the water cycle. She steps in, allowing the momentarily-cold water sluice down her back, and then the temperature rises enough for her to stand under the flow without risking illness. She scrubs her body clean, and then her hair, which she wrings free of excess water just as the cycle times out. Arden reaches a single hand out of the stall to collect her towel, drying her body and wrapping it firmly around herself before stepping out. She changes quickly, movements quick and precise borne from years of practice and routine.

Arden braids her still-wet hair and then sits on the bench to don her boots. She remembers her first day in the Training Corps, when she had pulled the things on and wondered how any of the soldiers were able to _move_. They were so tight, so restricting, and seemed to encase her whole leg that Arden instantly hated them. Eventually, once the leather became bent and worn to her movements, they became more bearable. Teagan sits down next to her, still fumbling with the upper part of her 3DMG harness, but Arden begins combing through her hair that the water has turned nearly black. Their braiding ritual had come along in the week before training had begun. Calla had refused to cut her hair to a more acceptable length for training, and neither she nor Teagan could find a hairstyle that would stay.

Someone from Arden's past had taught her how to braid, and it was how her own signature hairstyle came into play. Not only was it practical, it gave her opponents less to grab for leverage and it was a constant reminder of why she lived the way she did in the Underground. Now, though, it’s just mundane habit because she’s too lazy to find a new style.

Calla replaces Teagan on the bench, and Arden sets about styling her hair as well. When the three of them set off to breakfast.

* * *

 

Levi battled with himself all night. All three of them have scores far above average, rivalling even those of his squad—but can he really take three more people on his squad? They’re the elites for a reason, after all. The small amount of people on his squad _means_ something. It sets a bar for others to attempt to rise to, to make their goal and become the best they can absolutely be. Not to mention that his team maneuvers aren’t made for that many people. Levi can’t imagine trying to keep control of seven brats—all of them his senior, three of them young enough to be his daughters. The idea of that makes Levi snort in dersion.

At the same time, Black, Marlow, and Curtis are too talented to just thrust them into another squad. Realistically, his maneuvers and formations can be changed and shifted to include them without much issue. The others will learn and get over it with time, and it’s really not up to them. The only people Levi can forsee giving him issues is Curtis for sure, and maybe Black. He’s still not sure why she’s following orders when he _knows_ that’s not her nature. He’s seen it in her protectiveness, in the slight amount of sass, in the there-then-gone smirks.

But if Levi were to take all three, the small size of the squad would be nothing but a pile of shit on the floor. Granted, most of the other squads have anywhere from eight to thirteen members, not including the leaders, so it’s not extremely out of place. Even now, halfway through breakfast, Levi is still fighting with himself, and he needs to have a decision in just under half an hour, when they come to his office. Even now, he can see the brats sitting with the rest of the 102nd, talking quietly. Black is picking at a plate of food, not really eating and not really joining the conversation. Above the usual sound in the mess hall, he hears one of them—Larson, maybe—yell something indignantly and promptly smack someone else—Fischbach, his mind supplies vaguely—at the table upside the head. The table bursts into laughter from what he can see, though Black’s face stays emotionless.

 _I’ll take all three_ , Levi decides on a whim. _This is a terrible idea._

* * *

 

After breakfast is over and they return their plates to the kitchen, Arden leads the way to Corporal Levi’s office. Her friends flank her, Teagan on the right and Calla on the left, as they always do. Arden has never put much thought into _why_ they position themselves like that, but it might have something to do with the fact that Teagan, who was there before Calla, takes the right flank. Maybe they just do it without thinking. It’s never been important enough to stick out in Arden’s mind until now—she makes a mental note to ask them about it tonight.

Before she is entirely ready, the trio finds themselves outside of the right door. The Corporal disappeared from the canteen about eight minutes before them, so she can only assume that he is already in his office. As usual, the door is closed, so Arden knocks twice and waits.

“Name and business,” the Corporal’s icy voice calls from the other side. Arden rolls her eyes—really? How many people come and bug him? Everyone’s heard of the man’s explosive temper and his famous cleaning punishments.

“Privates Black, Curtis, and Marlow, Corporal Levi,” Arden calls back. “Reporting to receive new squad placements, Sir.”

“Enter.” Arden opens the door and steps inside, her family filing in after her. Even though Calla is the last one in, she stubbornly refuses to close the door. Teagan moves to close it—Arden isn’t sure if she hadn’t noticed that the movement was deliberate, or was just ignoring it. They stand in a line on the opposite side of Corporal Levi’s desk, at attention. There isn’t enough chairs for all of them to sit, and Arden is a firm believer in teaching by example. She does not expect Teagan or Calla to do something she wouldn’t. If they have to stand, she will stand—it has been and always will be as simple as that.

The Corporal doesn’t question it. He stares at the three of them for a few minutes, face impassive and unreadable. It’s a classic technique that the military loves to use—silence is supposed to put someone on edge, to break them down. Of course, Arden was immune to it before they even got around to joining, and Calla and Teagan should be well used to it by now. Arden stares back, unflinching, her face just as emotionless as his. She can practically _feel_ Calla’s challenging glare, chin tipped up stubbornly, ice-blue eyes flashing defiantly. Teagan has always been more naturally submissive, happy and willing to go about her days thinking everything is sunshine and happiness.

“Marlow,” he begins after four and a half minutes of silence. Arden feels Teagan tense beside her and grinds her teeth together. Just like Commander Smith when assigning their squads, he’s going in reverse alphabetical order just to make her wait and single her out. “You have mastered every single difficult subject without any issue. Your talent is far above those of Squad Nanaba. From now on, you will be reporting to my squad in training sector five.”

Teagan salutes. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” she says before dropping the salute and returning to attention. Despite her frustration, Arden is extremely proud of Teagan. She knows the Corporal must have scored their assessments personally, and those words must be his. One has to be hard-pressed to earn praise from the stoic, anger-prone Corporal.

“Curtis. Your precision with every single movement has left no room for error on anything you are tasked to do,” Corporal Levi continues. “There are a few things concerning your attitude, but you will no longer report to Shitty Glasses. From now on, you will join my squad in training sector five.”

At first, Calla makes no response, but Arden makes her next exhale slightly louder. Calla gets the message and reluctantly salutes. “Yes, Sir,” she says stiffly before quickly dropping the salute. The Corporal stares at the golden-haired woman for half a minute, and Arden vaguely expects him to change his mind right then and there.

He doesn’t, however, and turns his gaze to Arden instead. “Black,” he says. “You have passed everything thrown at you with no difficulty at all. Your precision is on point and creates no errors. Your speed in everything you do makes you an asset to any team. That is why, from now on, you will report to my squad in training sector five.”

Arden salutes sharply. “Yes, Corporal,” is all she says.

The Corporal’s eyes narrow minutely at her response. “Follow me, the lot of you,” he orders, standing. Then, without another word, he steps out from behind his desk and starts for the door. Arden takes the lead, following directly behind him. Once again, Teagan takes to her right and Calla moves to her left as they follow him out of his office and down the hall to the door leading to his squad’s training grounds. Once they make it outside and onto training sector five, Arden observes her new teammates. They seem to be slacking off—though she can’t really make that judgement, because she doesn’t know their routines.

“Captain!” Petra Ral’s girlish voice calls, capturing the rest of the squad’s attention. Jinn, Bozado, and Schultz quickly fall into attention.

Stopping about three feet away, Corporal Levi steps aside. “Meet your new teammates,” he says dryly. “Teach them the ropes. Figure it out.” And with that, he’s gone again. Arden, Teagan, and Calla face down with Petra, Oulo, Eld, and Gunther for a long, uncomfortable while.

Eventually, Arden gets tired off the stand-of and sighs. “This is Petra Ral, Oulo Bozado, Eld Jinn, and Gunther Schultz,” she intones to her friends before turning to the others. “This is Calla Curtis and Teagan Marlow. My name is Arden Black. We met during the last expedition.”

Oulo sneers at her. “You’re that rude little brat they gave us for a scout,” he says. Arden waits for him to elaborate more, to explain the significance for recalling that memory, but he gives none.

And Arden is done playing nice. “And you’re the arrogant little boy who thinks that his inability to dress with a style of his own makes him God’s gift to humanity.” Calla snickers quietly and Arden shoots the man one of her signature smirks. His face goes from normal to unbelievably red in seconds, and she can’t help but wonder if that’s healthy.

“There’s no need to argue,” Petra starts. “We’re all teammates here, after all.”

“Exactly,” Calla says. “ _Teammates_. We don’t expect you to like us and we certainly don’t need to become best friends. No offense, it’s probably better if we don’t.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Teagan explains kindly. “We can take care of ourselves. We can learn the maneuvers without messy ties and obligations. We’ll have your backs out there. Please understand that we’re not a very trusting group—and it’s nothing against you guys, I’m sure you’re lovely people, but we prefer to keep to ourselves.”

“How are we not supposed to take offense to that?” Gunther points out sourly. Arden shrugs, unable to answer that. She’s never really understood how people get offended at the slightest thing because she’s never had that issue. No, that might be too harsh—she never had the _luxury_ of being able to let her emotions get the better of her. She’s never been able to let them control her. It’s just too dangerous and counterproductive to her survival.

When it’s clear that no one else has an answer either, she sighs again. “Perhaps we should start with being civil,” she suggests before looking at Oulo and offering her hand. “If you refrain from calling my friends and I brats and anything of the sort, I will keep my mouth shut about how you choose to act and dress. Truce?” Arden carefully crafts her words, making them sound like an apology without actually apologizing. She’s done enough of that here recently.

Oulo regards her outstretched hand warily, the last vestiges of his previous anger clinging to his cheeks like a girly blush. Eventually, he clasps his hand in hers. “Truce,” he mutters. They shake on it once, and Arden drops her hand, satisfied. She’s never been one to take shit from anybody.

“Show us around?” Calla suggests, tactfully phrasing it as a question so as to not come off as demanding.

* * *

 

Levi, watching from a hidden distance, sees and hears everything. He’s not sure he likes what he hears—his squad is forming two factions, and that is not what the elite squad needs. It’s not as if he expected them to meet and then skip off into the sunset singing lullabies to pick fucking daisies, but he hoped that Black would continue her compliancy a little longer. Marlow and Curtis will follow her lead no matter what, a disturbing pattern. What has Black done to warrant such extreme loyalty? What is their story? How is it that these three women, two of which should have had no contact with one another outside of training, have a bond that cannot be broken?

Levi is also picking up on Black’s tendencies. He’d called her a loyal liar once, during the expedition, but loyal conniver seems more apt. He’d heard her carefully twist her words to hit Oulo where it would hurt the most—his precious identity—and then bring it back to sound like she apologized without once speaking the actual words. _Cunning little brat._ It was all flawless, completely and one hundred percent natural, as if she’d been doing it for years. Black had only met Oulo once, on the expedition, and was able to glean enough from their short altercations so as to properly and swiftly hit the man where it counted most. And then, in the very next breath, she was able to diffuse the situation enough for a tour and explanation to be given about the workings and duties of the Special Operations Squad without further issue.

Levi watches Black’s figure with narrow eyes. _Who are you, Arden Black?_ He questions silently. _What made you the person you are today?_ Levi prides himself on knowing the brats under his command. He’d already fucked up by no knowing her medical condition—but it’s in a restricted section of her file, and for good reason. Black specifically requested it be kept on a strictly need-to-know basis. Erwin knows, Marlene knows, and one of the nurses—Jane?—knows. Curtis and Marlow obviously knew long before any of them. Now that he is her squad leader, his name has been added to the list. Apparently, Black believed that if everyone knew, she’d be used as some sort of a weapon or punching bag since she couldn’t feel the pain. Smart and rational. On the other hand, Black’s file is all a joke.

There’s the usual: name, age, height, weight. But all her rankings and reports from training are bullshit, leaving her new report as her sole testament to her skill. She has no birthplace listed. Her next of kin is Marlow and Curtis, and from what he’d overheard during the expedition, he knew she had family. Levi was unable to glean if they are still alive—from the way Black talked, he suspects her parents to be dead. She also seems to not have a very good relationship with her brother and they possibly haven’t talked for years, but it’s possible he’s still alive.

To be short, Black is a fucking enigma and it pisses him off to no end.

* * *

 

Arden does not hesitate to show her new team exactly what she’s made of. She bested anyone at every single subject. Her time on the 3DMG surpassed every single person. The second closest was Calla, followed by Teagan, and then Eld. In hand-to-hand combat, Arden didn’t think twice before incapacitating anyone who dared to fight her. The longest anyone lasted against her was two minutes, and that was when Teagan and Calla coordinated a double attack on her. Even then, Arden easily put them down. Arden out-paced and outlasted everyone during laps, and aced every single tactical situation anyone could throw at her. She was not some sobbing little girl.

When dinner rolls around, Arden moves to her normal table. She could honestly care less if they’re supposed to sit with the Special Operations Squad now—as it is, she likes the other half of the 102nd much better than them.

“Why do you take the same sides when we walk together?” Arden asks as her friends sit. “Teagan always stands on my right and Calla always stands on my left.”

The two look at one another. Calla shrugs, and Teagan turns back to look at Arden. “Never realized we were doing that,” the brunette says simply. “If it bothers you, we apologize.”

Arden takes a bite of her food, chews, and swallows before answering. “Your apology is unnecessary,” she replies. “I just noticed it earlier today and wondered. Corporal Levi was observing our interaction with the rest of his squad.” She says it casually, as if it couldn’t possibly matter.

Calla sniffs regally. “Like I care what that _brute_ thinks,” she mutters sullenly. “He can go eat a bag of moldy, fungus-ridden potatoes for all I care.” Teagan laughs.

Arden, on the other hand, shoots the woman a disapproving glare. “That’s enough of that,” she orders sternly. “I don’t care much for him either, but he is still Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. I respect him for that—as should you. Strength is one thing here, but he is smart and fast. That means survival outside of these Walls. Remember that, the both of you.”

Calla, looking properly chastened, nods. “Yes, Arden,” she murmurs. “I apologize for my words. They were uncalled for and I will try to do better.”

Arden nods, satisfied with her friend’s words. “I accept your apology, Calla,” she replies. “It can be difficult to separate respect from the ability to like someone’s personality. It takes practice. Try focusing on Corporal Levi’s attributes instead of his personality and remember that he isn’t here to play nice—he’s here to reclaim what once belonged to us. As we are. Am I understood?”

Both Teagan and Calla nod. “We understand,” Teagan says.

At that moment, Jack wanders over with his food. “Whoa,” he says, taking note of the intense atmosphere at the table. “Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s Mark’s fault. I’ll get Sam to smack him.” Teagan laughs, the tension fading away, and Calla eventually joins in. Arden smiles softly at the scene in front of her.

She may not like Corporal Levi’s personality, and she may not like being forced to defer to him, but she can respect his strength.


	12. Moments of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in the military, not everything is danger all the time. 
> 
> (And in these moments, two enigmas try to figure one another out.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this work of fiction is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that appear.

Like everything they do, Arden, Teagan, and Calla settle into their new routine quickly. Though there is still friction between the three of them and the rest of Squad Levi, their interactions have become much less awkward due to constant daily sessions together. No one tells Captain Levi—Arden has changed the title, now that he is her captain—about their altercation. Not that they need to, but he never says anything. Arden isn’t quite sure what to make of that—seeing as he is their captain, she would have thought that he would do everything he could to keep his squad as a singular force.

At the moment, however, it is early in the morning and Squad Levi is gearing up for another practice run of the gauntlet. Arden notices Ral struggling with her gear more than usual, and against her better judgement, she moves forward to take a closer look. Instantly, she spots the problem.

“That belt is close to giving,” Arden tells Ral, her voice firm and uncaring. “You keep attaching the gas tanks like that and the heat and friction will shred through it entirely. It’s a miracle you’re still alive at this point. I’d get a new harness.”

Disbelieving, Ral examines the belt that her tanks connect to. If she notices the wear and tear that Arden sees, it isn’t obvious from her expression, but Ral shrugs helplessly. “There aren’t any harnesses that will fit me until next shipment,” the woman says. After a second, Arden swiftly detaches her own gas tanks and blades, pulling the buckles loose on her own harness. Arden’s slight frame is a match for Ral’s, and with the way she connects her tanks, she’ll be safer with a compromised harness than Ral. Still not ideal, and she’ll have to be much more careful, but as long as she has a new one before the next expedition, then everything should be okay.

Arden nods at Ral. “Switch,” she orders, sliding out of her boots to pull off the lower attachments. “You’ll end up with a broken leg if you don’t. Or worse.” Hesitantly, Ral begins to loosen her harness buckles as Arden pulls hers off completely and waits, somewhat impatiently. Finally, Ral hands her the damaged harness and Arden gives her the perfect one. With practiced hands and motions, Arden swiftly pulls the harness on, followed by her boots. She carefully attaches the gas tanks, a couple centimeters lower than Ral usually does, allowing for the damaged section of the belt to take a break from constant use.

“Thank you,” Ral says as Arden turns away.

“Don’t thank me,” Arden replies over her shoulder. “I’m not someone you thank.” And she isn’t. Arden knows that she is not a good person, and even this move is not for Ral’s benefit. It is in her best interest, and Calla and Teagan’s, that everyone in Squad Levi is at top performance at all times. Arden will do anything to ensure their survival. Everything Arden does has an ulterior motive, and the faster the rest of the squad learns that, the better. She is not nice, or kind, or gentle. She has never had the luxury of being any of those things. She is cold and cross and rough, she is good at surviving, and that will _never_ change.

Teagan and Calla have been watching the entire interaction silently. Arden isn’t sure if they understand her motives, but they don’t question her, following her to the edge of the gauntlet. They take off at once, sticking to a tight formation, running a practice of their attack maneuvers. They have a special move, just the three of them, designed by Captain Levi for them specifically. It’s fairly good, Arden has to admit begrudgingly, and plays to all of their specific strengths. By the time the three of them have finished, the rest of the Squad is ready.

Arden is extra careful with her maneuvers so as to not overextend the damaged belt and cause it to snap from tension. It’s not easy, especially at the speeds she travels at, but she somehow manages. Besides, even if it were to snap, Arden has a plan. It’s not foolproof, and she will definitely sustain minor to moderate injuries, but better her than Ral or anyone else on the squad. She recovers quickly, more quickly than is healthy, probably, but it’s how she survives. In her life, as long as it’s attached and still works, then it’s nothing serious.

Eventually, when they take a break, Captain Levi storms over to her, face set in a familiar scowl. “You’re holding back,” he accuses. “Tell me why, Black.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Arden sees Ral begin to speak up, only for Calla to _accidentally_ knock into her and cause a distraction. “My harness is compromised,” Arden responds. “I’m not exactly in the mood for a broken leg. _Sir_.” The honorific is tacked on at the last minute.

Captain Levi glares at her. “And you didn’t think to report malfunctioning gear to your captain, _Black_?” The man’s voice growls out in a low timbre, and Arden wonders if there’s actual concern that she sees there. Does he really care for her wellbeing, or is it just something that pertains to the fact that she is now someone he has to look after. After all, Arden getting injured during one of his practices by compromised gear would not look good in a report, she’d imagine.

“No, Sir, I did not,” Arden replies, the honorific coming out more naturally. Still, even though she defers to him as she should, Arden doesn’t offer an explanation as to why she didn’t report the gear—just to piss him off. If she is being honest, she is slightly impressed that Captain Levi was able to deduce that she was holding back the tiniest fraction so as to keep better control of her body. She knew her actions weren’t obvious at all, so the fact that the Captain has been watching her close enough to be able to determine the change.

“Why?” Captain Levi grinds out, clearly not impressed with her deliberate attempts to piss him off. At least she knows it’s working. This man’s supposed power over her irks Arden to no end, but his strength and ability to survive impress her. She is now stuck between wanting to push and poke and prod him to get him to snap, or pick his brain for his survival tactics.

Arden meets his gaze. “There wasn’t any reason, Sir,” she tells him. “There won’t be any more harnesses that fit me until the next shipment. I’ll have to make due with this one until then.”

* * *

 

Levi’s jaw clenches at Black’s obvious disregard for his authority. She’s testing him—his limits, his anger—trying to figure out what he’ll do to her. Trying to determine if he’ll be a threat. If he’s going to get her to come around with the rest of his squad before the next expedition, he needs to show her that he isn’t. Levi knows that it isn’t a good idea to have a squad split into two separate factions on missions. Curtis and Marlow will follow Black’s lead unconditionally, so she needs to trust him and see that he trusts the rest of his squad.

Black is skilled at many things. She is strong, smart, quick, and unafraid. Levi knows that she would be an asset to any team, but could also make an excellent squad leader someday. Her only failing is her lack of trust—not that he can really judge her. Something happened in Black’s past that forced her to isolate herself, to put herself in a position where she hides an important part of her medical history, where she found it necessary to hide her true skill for fear of being used and exploited. Someone from her past probably _had_ exploited her and her abilities. Black only trusts Marlow and Curtis, as he heard with her discussion with Curtis that night at the checkpoint. They might possibly be the only people who know Black’s past completely. And somewhere along those lines, she did something that made them trust her to the point that they will follow her anywhere. If Levi can get Black to trust him—and, by extension, his squad—then Curtis and Marlow will follow her lead.

“Black, follow me,” Levi orders, turning on his heel and stalking off towards the main building, not bothering to check and see if the woman is following him. He walks into the compound and leads the way into his office, waiting until Arden has entered the room before closing the door behind him. Levi moves to sit on the armchair in his office, faced by a small sofa and separated by a coffee table. He nods at the sofa. “Sit.” Black sits without a word, meeting his gaze evenly.

Levi waits for a moment, letting the silence sit. He knows that it doesn’t bother Black—this woman has shown incredible resistance to typical tactics used to break trainees down. While he waits, Levi takes note of her odd appearance. Her skin, though white, has a strange olive tint to it. Her hair is black, a color he knows for a fact is not a common occurrence. Her shoulders are oddly broad for a woman, but still very well built. He suspects that this would be the case without military training. Even her facial features and structure is strange, with a wide forehead, sharp chin, and angular, aristocratic nose. Her eyebrows are tightly curled and immaculately kept, though Levi has never once seen Black take the time to check her appearance like the rest of his team and even her friends. Her green eyes are a strange pale shade, set in her face with a slight angle and framed by long, thick black lashes. He has to admit that Black has a strange beauty about her that probably would land her in a trafficking ring if she was on the streets. Lucky for her she isn’t. Eventually, Levi says, “I’m not an idiot. I know that harness is Petra’s. She has an annoying habit of hooking her tanks up on the wrong notch. She’s gone through two others before now. What I don’t know is why you decided to switch with her when you have decided to not trust anyone besides your little friends.”

Arden’s face is emotionless, green eyes blank and voice monotone as she replies, “Trust is something that very few people cherish. Most people betray it. I need to know that every single person on this squad is at top performance in case of emergency. Ral’s awareness is something I cannot attest for, but I feel I will be safer with the compromised gear than she.”

Levi sits back, crossing his leg over the other, mulling over Black’s tactical response. “And _I_ need to know the same,” he replies eventually. “In the future, I expect you to tell me things that pertain to your wellbeing. Am I understood?”

“No,” comes Black’s response, shocking him. Levi narrows his steel blue eyes, fists clenching. What stops him from lashing out is the confusion he sees swimming in the black-haired woman’s eyes. She genuinely doesn’t understand something he has said, but Levi is unable to tell if she doesn’t understand the order itself or his motives behind giving it.

Levi tips his head at her. “Explain, Black,” he orders.

“Why does it matter to you? My health is my concern,” she tells him openly. Levi has noticed that his interactions with Black is an odd mixture of her sass and these rare moments that she shows her true emotions and answers honestly. The best he can figure is she is trying to keep him confused and on his toes around her, like he wasn’t already.

Levi meets her gaze evenly. “When you became part of my squad, I took an oath to ensure your continued health and safety to the best of my abilities,” he explains in return. If he can condition her to answer him honestly and explain, then reward her with his own honest answers and explanations, then he can build a report with her. Black is right about something, at least—trust is something that is quickly betrayed, and very slowly earned. It will take time and all of his patience, but Levi _will_ earn Black’s trust. “Outside of the Walls I can only do so much—but in here, I can control anything and everything if it means keeping my squad safe and healthy.”

“You can’t control me.” Black’s eyes blaze with a defiant fire, though the rest of her face stays emotionless and her voice is dull, indifferent. “Don’t take it personally, Sir. No one can.”

“We are not your enemy, Black,” Levi tells her, voice low and face serious. “I don’t know you, or your history. What I do know is that you think you’re protecting yourself and your little friends, but the only thing you need to protect them from is your inability to open up.”

The emotionless facade cracks, and Black’s faces twists into a sneer. “ _Open up_?” She scoffs, incredulous. “Like you? I do what I do to _survive_. Just like I’ve always done. Teagan and Calla follow me because they trust me implicitly. Because I was there for them when no one else was. It is _my_ job to keep them safe, to keep them free and happy—to make sure that they can survive without me. I don’t need to open up in order to do that.”

Interesting, Levi notes, because that’s the first thing he’s heard about how Black came to meet Marlow and Curtis. He wants to pry, to pull out every detail, but he doesn’t. “In the future, I expect you to inform me of anything that pertains to your wellbeing—Curtis and Marlow’s as well. Report to Shitty Glasses and ask for a new harness—that madwoman is bound to have one your size. Return to training after that. Dismissed, Black.” Without a word, Black stands and exits his office.

* * *

 

Arden silently fumes as her feet absentmindedly carry her through the compound to Squad Leader Hanji’s personal study. What the hell is he playing at, pretending he cares about her? It makes her incredibly uncomfortable to think that someone besides her family cares about her in any way, fake or not. There has to be some sort of ulterior motive. Arden knocks on the door to Squad Leader Hanji’s study and waits, clearing her face of any emotion. She hears hurried footsteps and then jumps back just in time to avoid being hit in the face by the door being flung open.

“Hello!” Squad Leader Hanji stands there, glasses glinting over the mad look in her eyes. “Specialist Black, right? Come in, come in!” Before Arden can say anything in response, the brunette woman has somehow latched herself on Arden’s arm and dragged her into the room. “I thought you specialists trained all day. Knowing Levi, it’s either that or clean. Oh! Would you mind helping me out briefly? I’ve been looking for my notes on this particular reaction, but I can’t find them anywhere! I think I might have had Moblit come and get something for me between then, and he might have shifted some things around. You know, I can’t tell you the last time I saw my desk. Don’t know when I let it get this bad, really I don’t.”

Arden tunes out the rambling and takes a good look at her surroundings. There has to be more books here than in the archives. They cover every surface and are in every shape and state of use. There are several sets of scientific equipment set up on hidden surfaces. Some of it is in use, but the others are stained with remnants of past experiments. A strange smell permeates the air—something that is both sour and stale, and slightly burnt if she’s correct. There are scorch marks and stains on the walls. The curtains are half-burned off at this point, and loose papers are strewn across every inch of the place. Bookshelves line the far right wall, but are mostly empty and not at all organized. Every single thing about this room sets Arden on edge, and she knows she has to fix it.

“Perhaps I could clean up a little bit, Squad Leader,” Arden says, cutting the woman off. “During lunch.”

Squad Leader Hanji squeals in excitement. _“Yes_!” She shouts, clapping her hands. Then, in three seconds, turns serious. “Now why have you come to visit me?”

Arden blinks slowly, staring. Teagan is prone to sudden mood changes, but this oddity of a human being tops her on her weirdest day. “Captain Levi sent me to collect a new harness. Mine is compromised and the supply station doesn’t have one in my size.”

Squad Leader Hanji grins at her and begins digging through a mound of straps and metal buckles until she emerges with a 3DMG harness Arden’s size. “There you are! Better get back to practice—I’ll tell Levi that I’m stealing you during lunch!” With that, Arden is shoved unceremoniously out of the door and back into the hall. As she walks back out to the training grounds where the rest of her squad is, Arden begins to understand Calla’s frustrations with her former Squad Leader.

* * *

 

Arden tells her friends where she will be and then leaves them outside of the mess hall. Luckily, Squad Leader Hanji is nowhere in sight, strangely enough trusting Arden to be in her personal study without supervision. At least it will spare Arden the headache. When faced with a project like this, it can be hard to know where to start. Still, Arden likes challenges and is ready. She begins by collecting every single book and piling them on the floor near the bookshelves. Then, she begins the task of gathering all of the papers and piling them on a recently-discovered desk surface. Equipment is gathered and grouped, cleaning supplies collected, and now everything is much more manageable. This is how Arden works—if the task is too big, compartmentalize and cut it down until it is doable. Arden shelves the books by genre, types of science within that, and then alphabetical within that. Before being placed on the shelf, each book is carefully cleaned of strange residue or dusted. After that, she sets about cleaning the scientific equipment, being careful not to touch any strange substances as she does so. Then everything is carefully put away and organized, easily accessible. Just that alone takes up the rest of lunch, but Arden resolves to come back during dinner.

When she does return, Arden moves the large stack of papers aside to clean the desk. She found some replacement curtains that are shorter and less likely to get destroyed and quickly hangs them up. Rubbish is swept and picked up, thrown away. The floors are scrubbed and mopped until sparkling clean, and so is every surface. Now it is time to deal with the papers. Some are blank, but most are detailed notes on everything from titans to teacups. Arden sits in a chair and begins sorting, reading through every single piece. Some are labelled, but most aren’t, so she’s forced to read through to get an understanding of the page and place it correctly with the others of its kind. When she is finished, Arden takes an unused piece of paper and folds it around bundles of notes that belong together, making some sort of holster for them. She carefully labels each holster before cataloging each one away in a cabinet for easy access. It takes her three and a half hours for that alone. Her back is stiff and her legs don’t want to move after being stationary for so long, but everything is worth it.

Arden can see the floor. She can see the desks. She can find any book she wants with ease. When she breathes, all she can smell is sharp cleaning agents.

Arden gathers up her cleaning supplies to take back and put away neatly. “Oi! Shitty Glasses!” The door is slammed open, and if she didn’t know any better, she might have thought it was kicked open. In strides none other than Captain Levi, who stops short—whether at the sight of her in Squad Leader Hanji’s personal study or the cleanliness of the room, she can’t tell. She stands in the center of the room, a bucket of cleaning supplies clasped in her left hand, and silently waits. The man in question looks around the room, runs a finger across a bookshelf, and inspects it. “So this is why you haven’t eaten anything today.” The accusation is somewhat true, anyway.

“I ate breakfast,” she informs him quietly.

He sighs. “Put your supplies away.” Arden silently complies, too tired to argue like she wants, and slips past Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He follows her out, closing the door and falling in line beside her. Arden finds the correct closet and puts the gear away, arranging everything neatly, before turning to head back to the dorm. “No, Black. Follow me.” Without thinking, Arden follows the order, and is led back to the mess hall and into the kitchen, abandoned for the night. Arden has never been in the kitchen after hours. It isn’t strictly forbidden, but it isn’t encouraged, either. After all, if every soldier snuck food, there wouldn’t be anything left. “Sit. Stay.”

“Woof.” From the look he gives her, Arden deduces that Captain Levi isn’t too impressed with her clever response, and she takes a seat at a small table that is meant for the kitchen staff to eat at. The man lights a couple of oil lamps and walks to the pantry, sorting through various food items. He’s going to make her a meal, however small it will probably be. It’s an odd gesture, one that not many have given her. During her youth, food was difficult and rare to come by, and so she learned to survive on the bare minimums. Even now, when she has access to food for three meals a day, she rarely ever eats at all three. If she eats too much, she’ll throw it back up. Her stomach just isn’t used to having that much food, even after almost five years. The last person to pull her aside and make her a meal was Teagan, right after she escaped her brother and her old life.

“There are faster ways to kill yourself than starving to death,” Captain Levi comments as he pulls a pot down from a hanging rack. Arden watches as he pumps water into it and then sets it on the stove before deftly searching out matches to light it. “We offer food to you brats for a reason.”

Arden shrugs. “Old habits die hard,” she offers quietly. The man combines water and flour to make a simple dough, forming lumps and dropping them into the boiling water and then adding some potatoes and carrots for good measure. Curious, Arden stands and wanders over to a rack of various spices and selects salt and a little bit of oregano. She pours a little sprinkle of each into the pot and then returns them to the appropriate spot.

“I thought I told you to sit down, Black,” her Captain says, voice bordering on annoyed. Arden smirks, but retreats back to the table and sits down. Ten minutes later, the simple meal is served in a bowl and placed in front of her.

Arden accepts it, picking up the fork. “You didn’t have to do this, Sir,” she says. “I would have been fine until breakfast.”

Captain Levi sits down across from her. “You lived on the streets,” he says, and Arden isn’t surprised in the least. It’s the easiest deduction to make, and since she _did_ live on the streets for a few years prior to joining, it technically isn’t a lie. She takes a bite of her food and nods in affirmative. “That’s how you met Marlow.”

Arden swallows. “Curtis,” she corrects before returning to eating.

He narrows his steel-blue eyes at her. “You lived on the streets in Wall Sina,” he says, trying to piece the little tidbits of information together. Arden decides she rather likes toying with him like this. Levi Ackerman is wicked smart, and to see him struggle like this makes her pride swell. “You had to have known Marlow prior to that, then.” Arden makes no move to confirm or deny, simply continuing to eat. Noticing her lack of response, Captain Levi says, “Your past is your business, but if it means I understand you better, then I won’t stop trying.”

Arden finishes her meal and swiftly cleans all of the used dishes, being sure not to leave a mess. When she’s finished, she turns to look at her Captain. “I’d be disappointed if you did, Sir.” And with that, she makes her exit and returns to her quarters, where Calla is fast asleep and Teagan is waiting up for her. Arden quickly changes, assuring her oldest friend that everything is fine, and then climbs into bed and quickly falls into a light sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, I have based Arden's appearance on an Arabic-Dutch combination of attributes.


	13. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character development. More character development. I'm so sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that this story does not belong entirely to me. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owner. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that may surface.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and criticisms and help me out with this. Do you like it? And to the Guest who left a kudos, thank you very much!

Time is a fickle thing, Arden knows quite well. And, while her days are filled with training sessions, meals with the 102nd, reading, and her little game with the Captain, time passes quickly. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, and before she knows it, the next expedition is approaching at full gallop. This one will be different—Arden can now keep an eye on Calla and Teagan, make sure they’re okay. Another thing that is different is the fact that Marlene’s squad is no longer the messenger squad. Apparently, Squad Leader Hanji has created what she calls flares, and each gun-type machine holds various pieces of ammunition with different colors. Arden, along with the rest of the Survey Corps, has been tasked with learning what each of the various colors mean. They are to be used to communicate in the presence of titans, because not everyone can do what she can and these things can come out of nowhere.

Captain Levi’s behavior continues to confuse Arden. From stories passed around in the mess hall, he’s supposed to be an arrogant ass, always strutting about and yelling, making people clean when they piss him off. What Arden has seen is the complete opposite—he isn’t necessarily nice, but he isn’t cruel either. She’s noticed his habit of asking her to explain her responses to his orders, and then explaining why he gave the orders to begin with. She’s not quite sure of the purpose behind this, but it does make understanding him a little easier. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from toying with him—it’s another personal policy of hers to keep people at a distance, to mislead and misdirect them about her character and her past. Where she came from, it was for the best. Arden would call her little game with him one of cat and mouse. She’s quite familiar with this one—after all, she only played it for five years straight.

The punch comes at her in the form of a decent right hook, but at a speed so slow Arden almost yawns as she steps out of the way. Schultz lets out a little grunt of frustration, sweat beading on his forehead. “If you’re not going to fight, you could at least pay attention,” he huffs at her.

“If I wasn’t paying attention, you would have managed to hit me at least once,” Arden replies, voice matter-of-fact. In actuality, it’s not often at all that she _isn’t_ paying attention. A distracted mind means certain death, and so Arden is sure to be focused at all times. “Tighten your stomach and stop guarding your face so much. An opponent is far more likely to go for your tender spots than your face.”

“That’s not fighting fair,” Schultz tells her, and doesn’t take her advice. Arden rolls her eyes, but if he wants to learn the hard way, she’ll oblige. Arden lunges forward, grabs his left wrist, using her arm to thwart any attempts his right hand might make, and lands a solid uppercut with her right fist straight into his stomach. Schultz’s breath is forced from his body and he stumbles away, clutching at his midsection.

Arden drops his wrist and lets him go. “In a fight with another human being, on the streets or in a tavern, they will not fight fair.” Schultz looks up at her, still doubled over. “Tightening your stomach means it will take less damage when hit, and if you drop your arms and guard your chest instead, you can move them up or down as needed. At punch to the face will hurt, maybe break your nose or jaw. A good hit to your stomach will knock the air out and you’ll be forced to take a minute to gather your breath. In that minute, your opponent will have you on the ground, out cold.” Arden looks over to Calla, where the blonde-haired woman is waiting for an opponent. “Calla, help me.”

Instantly, Calla walks over, assessing what she sees. “What do you need, Arden?”

In lieu of response, Arden shifts into the correct stance and tosses a harsh punch at her friend’s face. Calla barely manages to dodge, but returns it. This time, Arden lets her land the blow, her knuckles cracking across Arden’s jaw with so much force it throws off her balance a little. Capitalizing on the opportunity, just as Arden taught her, Calla lunges again, throwing up her left arm to keep any blows from hitting her straight on and driving her fist into Arden’s stomach. Arden, anticipating this, tightens her core muscles and releases her breath. The punch does no harm, and she kicks her foot out to tangle with Calla’s feet and shoves the woman off-balance, throwing her to the ground.

Schultz is watching with rapt attention, and that is how Arden knows she has gotten her point across.

Calla stands, brushing dirt from her uniform. “You’re jaw all right, Arden?” She asks. “Didn’t pull that one like I should’ve.” Arden takes a moment to open and close her mouth some, testing out the movement.

When it becomes clear that everything is fine, she says, “I’ll survive. Thank you.” Calla nods and wanders off. Arden looks at Schultz again. “Go again.”

* * *

 

Levi scowls, watching his squad go through their sparring sessions. It’s been a couple of weeks since he make them go through one, seeing as he was more concerned about making sure the maneuvers and formations were absolutely perfect. They don’t need hand-to-hand in the Survey Corps, but it’s good to keep their wits sharp and force them to pay attention to their surroundings. Most of them have gone soft, pulling their punches and not really fighting. He’s paired Petra with Marlow, and Oulo with Eld. Pairing Black with someone is always difficult—the black-haired woman is just too damn fast for anyone to keep up with. He’s hoping that her swift nature might rub off on his squad, but no such luck so far. This time, he’s paired her with Gunther, and allowed Curtis to sit this session out unless a partner volunteers after their fight.

As he watches, Black boredly dodges punch after punch. The two exchange words, and then Black quickly dispatches Gunther with a hit to the stomach. Levi narrows his eyes, because that move is very, very common in the Underground. Weaker fighters and thugs down there liked to use it to gain the upper hand in a fight, but Black doesn’t need to. Even now, against someone almost three times her size and weight, she doesn’t need to resort to such low tactics to gain the upper hand. And, as Levi continues to watch, Black calls Curtis over and starts a quick round, taking a hit to the jaw, and then her stomach. Unlike Gunther, Black doesn’t stumble away breathless, and he knows then that she must have found a way to counter the common move.

This is her style, he’s noticed. Black has a tendency to find countermoves in order to allow her to keep herself out of a majority of danger—and injuries. He suspects it's due to her condition, and it does make sense. If you can’t feel the injuries, you won’t know if it’s life-threatening. Levi knows she lived on the streets for a bit, and so she wouldn’t have access to a doctor. Her speed seems to be one of these countermoves. If she is faster than her opponent, then she can dodge a fair amount of injuries. Still, if she has a countermove for a common tactic in the Underground, Levi knows it is very likely that Black spent some time there as well. He supposes that she could have learned it from someone who managed to pay their way up to the Surface, but for something that fleeting, she might not deem it necessary to create a way to stand against it.

Levi also knows that if he should ask her, he wouldn’t be given a straight answer.

The game he is playing with her could be likened to one of cat and mouse, he supposes, but he never knows who the cat is and who the mouse is. Levi likes to think this is another one of Black’s countermoves—a way to keep him at a distance, even when he is getting closer. So far, all he knows of her is that she lived on the streets in Wall Sina, where she met Curtis and somehow streetrat and spoiled brat became closer than family. She had to have met Marlow sometime before that, but Marlow lived in Wall Rose, and they don’t let just anyone through the gates. If Black lived in the Underground for any period of time, that makes things even more confusing. She enlisted when she was sixteen, and from the close bond, had to have spent a few years with Curtis. That would put her around twelve when living in Wall Rose, but did she spend more time with Marlow before meeting Curtis?

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Levi calls, “Black!” Gunther, who has moved back into an offensive stance, freezes. Black casually turns to look at him over her left shoulder. “Injuries?”

“Negative, Sir,” is her calm response. Then she turns back to the fight. He normally never needs to ask, because she normally doesn’t take hits. When she does, however, Levi makes sure that she doesn’t need to go to the infirmary.

At some point, Erwin wanders out to bug him about something. What it is, Levi may never know, because the blonde’s attention is attracted to Black’s one-sided fight. “She’s quite fast,” he notices. Levi rolls his eyes and deigns not to answer—as if it wasn’t obvious enough. Black slams Gunther to the ground over and over again as they watch, completely merciless and heartless. She never even seems to break a sweat, never seems to pause to make a decision or let him catch his breath. Curtis is also watching them, and Levi thinks he sees a bit of pity in her usually scornful ice blue eyes. He realizes that Black probably trained her and Marlow, and was probably just as ruthless. She doesn’t seem to be the type to favor someone.

“Curtis, Marlow,” Levi calls. The fighting breaks slightly, allowing for his squad to listen to his order. “Fight Black for a bit.” Relieved, Gunther sulks away to lick his wounds, and Marlow and Curtis descend on Black without hesitation. They are ruthless themselves, teaming up with one another and coordinating attacks. Black keeps up easily, blocking attacks and skillfully returning them in her own time. At one point, Curtis somehow manages to get Black’s arms pinned behind her back, and Marlow advances. Unphased, Black jumps, shoving her feet into Marlow’s stomach and forcing the brunette woman to the ground. Curtis, not expecting the sudden force backwards, loses her balance and falls to the ground as well. Black lands on her and then rolls to the side, quickly back on her feet. She wastes no time, grasping Marlow’s ankle and dragging her over to Curtis, where the fight ends with one of Black’s hands wrapped around both of their throats.

Or, at least the fight _should_ have ended.

Curtis makes the first move, grasping Black’s wrist with one hand and slamming her fist into the inside of the black-haired woman’s elbow, forcing the limb to bend and throwing Black’s balance off slightly. That slight change is just enough for Marlow to sit up quickly, lunging to her knees and tugging Black’s right arm around to her back roughly, pinning it there. Black releases Curtis and brings her now free elbow back at Marlow’s face, who is forced to release her grasp or get an elbow to the eye. Curtis tackles Black to her back, but Black is quick to reverse the roles and easily pins Curtis down. Marlow tries to dislodge Black, but Black simply grabs the other’s ankle and yanks her down to the ground.

“Should we put a stop to that?” The mild alarm in Erwin’s voice shocks Levi slightly, who turns to look at the taller man. He supposes that Erwin has never seen these three go all out, especially against one another. “It looks like someone is going to get seriously hurt.”

“They’ll be fine, all of them,” Levi tells him sourly. No matter how many times he lets them do this, no one ever gets an injury greater than a few bruises. “All right, you three, that’s enough. You’re getting yourselves filthy. Wash up and go to dinner, everyone.”

* * *

 

Dinner is rather fun that night, if Arden is being honest. She is well used to just quietly sitting through the meal, eating whatever she decided to grab, content to watch her family and friends interact with one another. She enjoys the stories and the jokes, the memories from training. That night, though, someone mentions arm wrestling. Calla instantly dismisses any attempts, keen to sit this activity out. Teagan, the exact opposite in most respects, volunteers and wins twice against Jack and loses against Sam. Curiously enough, Mark also loses against Sam.

“You let her win, right Mark?” Calla asks, disbelieving.

Mark shakes his head, a sheepish grin set on his mouth. “Sam’s _strong,_ okay? It’s not all about visible muscles—you should know, look at Arden.” The mention of her name grabs the majority of Arden’s attention, which had been previously focused on her odd Squad Leader and their game of cat and mouse. “She could probably beat all of us in seconds.”

Sam gets a strange glint in her deep blue eyes, and Arden is suddenly a little apprehensive. Sam pulls her arm up and sets her elbow on the table. “I’ll take that bet,” she says. “You in, Arden?”

Arden’s competitive streak, which she often keeps suppressed, flares up with a vengeance, and a smirk slides the corner of her mouth up. “Loser gets a tattoo of the winner’s choice,” she offers, pulling her own arm up and setting her elbow on the table, grasping Sam’s open palm.

“Deal,” Sam says. “Calla, you judge. You’ll be impartial.”

“If I must,” Calla sighs, but Arden can tell that the blonde-haired woman isn’t all that put-out. She’s leaning forward, clearly interesting in the outcome. “Other palms on the table, both of you.” Arden obliges, pressing her left palm to the scrubbed wood. Sam copies her. “I will count down from three. When I say go, you may begin. Three, two, one, _go_.”

For several tense moments, neither woman is able to gain ground on the other. Arden is impressed—she _knows_ that Sam is not weak by any means, but to hold her ground for this long against her is no small feat. Still, though Sam is strong, she isn’t strong enough to hold this for much longer. As it is, Arden is bored of the position and flexes her hand, causing Sam to lose a few centimeters. Relentless, Arden pushes her arm forward, shoving Sam’s backwards bit by bit. A sudden influx of force causes Arden to lose several centimeters, and Arden grits her teeth and pushes even harder, her muscles flexing, coiling up like a snake ready to strike. They stay like that for a few minutes more as Arden gathers kinetic energy.

And in one quick motion, she slams Sam’s hand down on the table.

“Arden wins,” Calla announces. Sam grins and reaches a hand out, which Arden shakes and returns the gesture with a small smile of her own. Just like that—no hard feelings.

“You don’t have to get a tattoo if you don’t want one,” Arden tells her. Realistically, it’d be difficult to find the time and dangerous to get. Arden has heard they get infected easily, and that isn’t something she’d wish on any of her friends.

Sam shrugs. “Maybe I’ll get one, maybe I won’t,” she replies. “Not quite sure, really.” Together, all six stand and take their empty dishes up to the kitchen and exit the mess hall. Normally, they’d all head to their rooms and separate for the night, but this time, Arden takes the initiative to invite the rest of the 102nd into her room.

“There’s got to be something wrong,” Jack comments, stumbling as Sam pulls him into the room. “They’ve invited us into their lair, guys! I told you, they’re some sort of demon creatures that want to suck our blood!”

Mark scoffs, closing the door behind him. “Shut it, you big ninny,” he says. Unable to keep the amused smile from her face, Arden removes her boots and sits at the desk to begin polishing them, a well-practiced routine by now. Calla and Teagan sit on their bunk, and Jack scrambles up to the one over top of them, claiming to at least have a height advantage should things turn south. Mark rolls his eyes and takes the empty bunk under Arden’s chosen bed, joined by Sam.

They laugh and chat for at least two hours, late into the night and potentially early into the evening. Arden can’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun, that she’s been this relaxed. Even around Teagan and Calla, she doesn’t relax because it’s her job to protect them. Here though, in a tight little room surrounded by five skilled fighters that she trusts, Arden feels as though they are enough to dominate the playing field should some sort of incident occur.

And then, one by one, they all fall asleep—Calla and Teagan back-to-back, as usual; Jack sprawled on is stomach, snoring slightly; Sam and Mark cuddled together so close Arden can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins. And, in her mental state, Arden decides to let her tense mindset go for one night and get a full night’s sleep—and all six of them are in their uniforms still.


	14. Clashing Tempers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has bad days. Even fictional characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that this story does not entirely belong to me. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful creators. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that surface. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and criticisms. They're immensely helpful when writing as they fuel my fire. MiraclePizza, VBO14, this long-awaited chapter is for you. I am terribly sorry for the wait.

It has not been Arden’s day.

When she woke up, she found that she was unsettlingly disoriented and nearly attacked when she saw someone else standing over Teagan and Calla’s sleeping forms. At the last second, she recognized Mark’s figure and just managed to keep herself from launching at him from behind. After that, she ran out of soap and was forced to use the community bar, something so disgusting that she almost considered not washing at all. Her uniform shirt for the day had a hole in the side, and there were no other clean ones as their laundry rotation had not yet come to them. Her only small mercy is that her jacket is long enough to cover it. What little she ate for breakfast made her nauseous, and she suspects she ate too much the night before. During training, Captain Levi seems more sour than usual, pushing and drilling them harder and harder with harsh words and a steel glare.

Lunch sees Arden with a massive headache throbbing between her temples, and still slightly nauseous from breakfast, she declines eating anything. Of course, her captain notices and scolds her in front of the entire mess hall. During evening training, he pushes her in particular, critiquing every single move she makes, questioning _why_ and _what else can you do instead?_ It grates on Arden’s nerves, because he’s never seen fit to question her undeniable skill before. And why today of all days, when her patience level is null and she feels as if she might snap at any second? Even her friends have taken to giving her a wide berth, only speaking to her when absolutely necessary. They’ve learned over the years that while Arden is very patient, even she has bad days—only her days are _extremely_ awful, where nothing goes right. They’ve also learned that she is far more likely to lose her temper, and they have both been on the receiving end at one point in time.

Arden is surprised she makes it to dinner without lashing out. She knows that it is no one’s fault that she’s had such a terrible day—maybe one person is involved a little too much for her liking—and that is partially what keeps her in check.

But…

“Your landing is off, Black.” His sharp reprimand in that deep, disappointed tone of his brings back memories that bite at her and set her on edge even more. Arden grits her teeth, grinding them together. “You’re better than this. Run it again.” Captain Levi has since told the rest of the squad to stop practicing, but stay nearby until otherwise dismissed. They are watching from a few short yards away—half of them in sympathy, the other half in vindictive pleasure. If she had been thinking clearly, Arden might have realized what the man was doing all the way back at lunch. She won’t realize it until later, after she’s gotten her aggression out. Without a word, Arden turns on her heel and sets off to run the gauntlet again, angrily slicing through fake titan flesh at speeds she’s only touched on in training. Generally, Arden tones down her speed so the rest of the squad can keep up for maneuvers—but not today. Not now.

Her feet have barely touched the ground when, “What the hell was that last cut, Black? Are your blades dull, or are you? Get it together or you’ll be here all night, running it until you can get everything perfect. Run it again.”

* * *

 

She’s breathing hard, Levi notices, but doubts it’s from over-exertion. From the minute she walked into the dining hall for breakfast, he knew she was not having a good day. He’s seen her angry and protective, but he has never seen Black _angry_. This might be his only chance for a while to push her until she breaks, and he thinks he’s just managed it. Levi watches as Black’s jaw sets defiantly, as her shoulders square up ever so slightly in preparation for his reaction.

“Go hang yourself,” she spits at him, voice venomous and glare as sharp as a dagger to the chest. Despite himself, Levi feels his own temper spiking in response to her little outburst. Black is a survivor, and to hear her telling _him_ of all people to hang himself immediately sets him off.

Levi tamps it down. “If that’s how you feel, then we’re finished here,” he tells her coolly before looking at the rest of his squad. He sees that most of them have stood and approached, sensing something about to go down. Curiously enough, Marlow and Curtis stay put, sharing uneasy glances. “Make sure Black runs the course until I return.” They salute at his order, and Levi turns to walk away.

* * *

 

Arden’s temper flares to uncharted heights at the irksome man’s retreating back. He’s walking away from the problem, just like everyone else in her life. Just like she used to. “Did you not hear me?” Arden shouts after them, voice raw and rough. He turns and looks at her over his shoulder, blue eyes blazing. Arden doesn’t care—she’s seething, _boiling_ mad right now, and the others closing in on her make her feel trapped and caged. “I said go hang yourself, damnit!”

“That’s enough!” Bozado’s voice cuts in from somewhere on her right. “You watch your mouth in front of our Captain!” Arden, who had been leaning slightly in the Captain’s direction, straightens her posture, tensed and ready for anything.

She glances at Bozado briefly before turning back to face the Captain. “Make me,” she mutters, voice so quiet she doubts Bozado heard it. He does hear it, surprisingly, and turns to look at Jinn, who shrugs slightly. Bozado squares up and runs at her, letting out a bellow that sounds like a heifer in labor, and aims to elbow her in the face. Quick as lighting, Arden ducks underneath the blow and then forcefully pushes herself upwards, flinging the man a good four yards away and into a tree with a sickening thud. The rest of Squad Levi rallies in response, gearing up to attack her, and Arden grins—a terrifying, feral thing that has sent a lot of people to the afterlife, whatever that may be. Suddenly, her day seems _that_ much better, because she hasn’t been able to break and bruise and really let go in _years._ The monster in her soul rears its ugly head, and she doesn’t bother to wait for them to make the first move. Arden doesn’t just lunge forward—she blurs through the air.

Jinn goes flying, Ral’s face vaguely blurring into her sight before the woman is tossed aside as well, body as limp as the doll’s from her youth. None of the others matter—her entire being is focused on the person of her frustrations. Everything in her mind is screaming at her _rip break tear pound_ **_destroy_ ** and Arden has been pent up for far too long to be able to shove the urges back again.

* * *

 

Levi is not one who makes mistakes often, and is even less likely to admit it if he does. He had no idea what he would discover about Arden Black when she became angry, but looking at the unhinged woman in front of him, he readily admits that he may have pushed her too far. Levi is unprepared for her, and knows he can’t match her speed. He’s fast, but no one is as fast as her. Black is strong, yes, but he is stronger. The problem is that his strength only gets him so far when his opponent is faster. She shows no mercy, wiping the rest of his squad out in minutes and her eyes—unusually dark in color—are eerily locked onto him. By being a main factor in this meltdown, Levi has made himself a prime target.

“You don’t get to walk away,” Black snarls, voice low and intense and enough to send any lesser man running. “I don’t get to, and neither do you!” Her gaze is sharp, yet unfocused. He knows if he were to attack, she would be able to follow him and beat his movements easily. Still… she doesn’t seem to be _here,_ in the present.

“Zoe,” Marlow calls. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s a nightmare.” Levi notices that the brunette keeps a safe distance, and that’s when he realizes that even they are not exempt from Black’s strange fit. And then, right there, Marlow begins to sing. Levi doesn’t know the song, but it’s about children losing their way and being saved. It’s about dreams and something not being fair, and that they’re not what they seem. It’s about how they want to fly, but their souls are trapped inside; it’s not a game, they’re forced to hide. It’s about them being trapped in a nightmare and being set free. Whatever the song is, or how Marlow knew it would work, it seems to calm Black down minutely, bit-by-bit until the song is done. It’s rather short, but Black has gone from looking murderous to looking miserable.

It is only then that Curtis approaches, humming the same tune, until she can carefully touch her fingertips to Black’s elbow. The black-haired woman doesn’t react, staring down at her boots, and Curtis begins to gently guide her away. Marlow watches them, brown eyes worried. Levi doesn’t bother to reinforce his previous order to continue to run the gauntlet. He’s pushed Black far enough—obviously.

After Black and Curtis have vanished inside the compound, Marlow turns to him and salutes. “I apologize for Specialist Black’s behavior, Captain,” she says, not smiling for once. “It won’t happen again.”

“Does it happen often?” Levi asks, because he needs to know if she’s likely to fly off the handle during an expedition.

Marlow shakes her head. “No, Sir. I’ve known Specialist Black for ten years now, and that’s only happened twice. Three times, including today.” Without waiting for dismissal, Marlow begins making rounds to the rest of his squad, checking for serious injuries. They’re all unconscious, but Marlow gently brings them to wakefulness and helps them stand, encouraging them to go to the infirmary for any serious pains and apologizing on Black’s behalf. In a way, Levi knows this is his fault as well. He may not have struck the blows against his squad himself, but he was the catalyst in the breakdown of the woman who had. Levi doesn’t regret his actions, but he does feel guilty about the consequences they have caused.

* * *

 

Arden feels numb. Teagan singing their song had slowly eaten away at the burning anger and repressed urges until they had both retreated back into the recesses of her mind, leaving behind the numbing sadness that always follows these breakthroughs. She doesn’t know where she’s being led, or who is leading her, and she doesn’t care. For once, surviving isn’t on her mind, because there’s no reason for her to survive. Her family dead, left with nothing, living with nothing. Her revenge was a lost cause, a fable given to her in order to use her. All that time she’d been looking for nothing short of a monster, but the monster had been her, and the monster hasn’t left—she’s just gotten better at hiding it, at denying it bloodshed.

Arden is curled up in the corner of a room, on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees and head bowed. Someone had taken her hair down from its twintail braids, combing through it gently with fingers, and carefully removed her jacket and boots. Why did she think the military was a good idea? The answer is simple: Arden _never_ once believed it would be simple, but she never thought that it would be this immensely complicated. She never counted on anyone focusing on her, on trying to unravel the web of lies and deceit that she’s tangled herself in for protection. At first, it was a game, and she was positive that he would never get anywhere close. Now, though, she isn’t so sure. Arden just wants to sleep the day away, doesn’t feel like doing anything.

Hands swim into her vision, pulling her arms apart and gently pushing her knees down, balancing a plate full of food on them. “You need to eat, Zoe,” a familiar voice says—Arden can’t be bothered with identifying who, but the strangeness of the nickname eats at her consciousness, jolting her into mindless actions following the order. “Thank you.” Numbly, Arden eats bite after bite, chewing and swallowing without tasting.

“... going to _murder_ him,” another familiar voice filters in after awhile, clearly angry. “... never find the body… had no business sticking his nose where…”

“It’s not worth it,” the first voice replies, much less angry and more resigned. “... couldn’t have known… she doesn’t _broadcast_ it by any means.”

“But she’s _everything_ to us, Teagan! We owe everything to her! And he’s… makes me _furious!_ Look at her… she’s completely lifeless… are you not angry at this?”

“Of course I am, Calla!” The first voice snaps, anger finally bleeding into the words. “... makes you think I’m not upset at this? There’s nothing that can be done now… wait it out… let her come to on her own now.” Arden’s plate is empty and has been for some time now, but her hands have been on autopilot, bringing nonexistent bite after nonexistent bite to her mouth again and again. It’s only when someone removes both the fork and plate from her grasp that she stops. Someone else hauls Arden to her feet, pulling her somewhere else in the room. The hands pull at the belts twined around her body until they fall loose. She is now faced with the rungs of a ladder. “Climb up, Zoe,” the same voice says, gently. “Carefully, now, one foot at a time.” Arden does as bid, slowly climbing up into something soft, where she lays down and curls up on her side. A blanket is pulled up to her chin, and that is when Arden lets herself finally fall asleep.

* * *

 

Levi stares at his own reflection. Black hadn’t been at dinner. Marlow and Curtis were, and they left with a full plate only for Curtis to return alone, the plate empty. It was a mistake to push Black so hard, and that he readily admits. What might be worse is that he may have just shattered any beginnings of trust that he’d been working to build between the two of them, and that will only continue to cause problems in the future. Glaring at himself for a moment longer, Levi breathes a huff of annoyance and then exits the bathroom and into his bedroom. He’s already changed out of his uniform, but tiredness evades him like usual, and he sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.

 _Zoe. Marlow called Black Zoe. She’s known Black for ten years. Someone used Black’s abilities as a weapon. Black lived on the streets, assumingly with Marlow. They somehow met Curtis and bonded. Black may be from the Underground._ All of this information is swimming around in his head, incoherent and none of it fitting together like it should. Levi needs to know what happened to make Black the way she is, how she ended up so secretive and so distrusting. Arguably he went about it the wrong way tonight, but there is nothing that can be done about it now.

He’s giving his squad the day off tomorrow. It’s a risky move with the next expedition just four weeks away, but after tonight they’ll most likely need it. And… he now needs to find a way to regain what little trust he’s been building with Black over the past eight months. After this, she may never trust him again and he’ll have destroyed any chance of getting her to open up to him. Levi blinks, somewhat shocked at the direction of his thoughts. He’s never particularly cared for anyone’s backstories, pasts, and histories before, so what makes Black so special? It could be because she’s the first Survey Corps inductee in a very long time that might be able to match his skill. It could also be because she’s presented him a challenge in figuring out her history. But that also begs the question of why Levi feels it so important for Black to trust him. Up until now, he’s been acting under the forced mindset that she’s part of his squad and he cannot allow them to split into two factions forever. And while that _is_ a valid reason, Levi can’t help but feel like it’s not the only one.

Levi doesn’t like to admit when he is wrong or has made a mistake. He also does not like to speak of or deal with emotions. It’s not that he doesn’t have them—despite some rumors, he _is_ human—but he simply prefers to keep them under wraps and out of the way. His emotions on Black are extremely complex, ranging from anger and frustration to respect and admiration. Her ability to get under his skin so easily irks him to no end, and her lack of communication is something that makes his life infinitely harder, but… Black’s speed is nothing to sneeze at. She’s smart and strong, a realist in every sense of the word. She’s been through something and instead of crumbling under the pressure, she reveled in it and emerged stronger than ever. And so yes, Levi knows that while all those other pesky emotions can be applied to the girl—nay, woman—his height, he also knows that he is fascinated with her for reasons beyond him.

Levi scowls, rage rushing through him. Instinctively, he lashes out, his fist landing against the wooden bedpost. Pain laces through his knuckles and up to his wrist, but he shakes it off. Black wouldn’t have felt the pain. _Black wouldn’t have punched a bedpost because she was angry._ The thought comes unbidden and Levi’s teeth grind together in anger. Black wouldn’t risk unnecessary injury just because she was angry. Since when has everything related back to her? Levi pulls in a long breath through his nose, counts to ten, and then slowly lets it out. His anger isn’t completely gone, but it has subsided quite a bit.

Levi pulls his feet up onto the mattress, laying down and staring up at the blackness where the ceiling should be. _Go hang yourself,_ Black’s voice echoes in his head. _You don’t get to walk away. I don’t get to, and neither do you!_ Levi shifts, rolling onto his side and squeezing his eyes shut. Black lived on the streets with Marlow in Wall Sina. Marlow is from Wall Rose. They met Curtis and became inseparable. It is very possible that Black lived in the Underground prior to meeting either of them. There is something in her that she keeps hidden, keeps pushed down. He has no doubts that she is lethal when pushed too far, and he’s very lucky that Curtis and Marlow knew how to handle her in that position.

And, for some reason, the idea that Black will no longer trust him or encourage their little game of Cat and Mouse _distresses_ Levi.

* * *

 

Teagan is not stupid. She keeps a sunny disposition because she firmly believes that positive attitudes _do_ make a difference in those around her—but that in no way makes her stupid or unobservant. She’s known for a very long time now that it isn’t often Arden sleeps willingly. Back in Wall Maria, the first night after the incident, Arden had insisted they sleep back-to-back. Teagan agreed, her only friend’s presence a comfort, and then spent the whole night being woken up from Arden’s nightmares and impatient shifting. Of course, when Arden discovered that her habits were disturbing Teagan, she instantly changed and adapted to keep Teagan comfortable and allow her to sleep.

Arden watches over them because she cares. That has never been in question.

But, on occasions, Teagan watches over Arden. Without Arden, she would not be alive. She would never be able to look at life so brightly on a daily basis.

Teagan shoves her pillow where her body should be against Calla’s unknowing back and climbs to the unused top bunk above the sleeping blonde. It is there that she sits, curled into a tight ball, and rests her chin on her knees. She can see Arden’s sleeping and prone from through the darkness on the bunk across from her. She can hear Calla’s breathing. She can see the door.

Teagan watches Arden because it’s the only thing she can do in return.


	15. Subdued, Suppressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arden must now face the consequences of having a mental breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: This is a very heavy chapter. There are mentions of manipulative, abusive families. There are insinuations of past homicides, PTSD, and other related things. Please read with caution. 
> 
> (If you are in a similar situation, please do not be afraid to reach out for help. Here is the number for the National Domestic Violence: 1-800-799-7233)
> 
> Please take note that this story does not belong entirely to me. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owners. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that surface.

When Arden wakes, her eyes are bleary and her limbs feel thick and sluggish, almost weighted down. Even though this doesn’t happen often, she knows how to coach herself through daily actions. When her darker, more bloodthirsty side manages to come out, it sends her entire brain into a downward spiral. She did a lot of things in her childhood—things she is not proud of, things that take a toll on one’s humanity. This is something that doesn’t just go away with time and disuse.

“You had an episode yesterday,” comes a familiar voice to her right. “Do you know who I am?”

It takes Arden a minute to process the question and then formulate a response. “Your name is Teagan Belle Marlow.”

“That’s right,” Teagan says, voice quiet. “Can you tell me your name?” Arden shifts through her memories, taking her time and searching for the right response.

“My name is Arden Lena Black.”

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Teagan to figure out that after her episodes, Arden struggles to remember certain things. It’s like her mind has been snapped from the present to the past, and she asks a series of questions to bring it back to the present. Arden’s face is soft and scared, looking young and lost. Her voice is quiet and vulnerable, betraying her emotions. This is nothing like the strong, independent woman that is her oldest friend, her one bit of family left. It breaks Teagan’s heart to see her like this, but keeps a blank face and a small voice.

“Correct.” After Arden answers a question, Teagan always confirms the response or asks the same question again. “Can you identify your location?”

Arden blinks, her pale green eyes wide and innocent as they stare up at the ceiling. “I am in a shared room within the Survey Corps compound,” she replies after a brief hesitation.

Teagan nods despite the fact that Arden can’t see it. “You’re right,” she tells the black-haired woman. “There is another woman who shares this room with us. What is her name?”

Arden’s brow furrows. “Pip?” She responds, voice unsure. Teagan has heard the name before, and Arden once described its owner as a little girl with sandy hair, a round face, and bright eyes. Pip was the youngest member of Arden’s former group in her birthplace, but that’s all Teagan knows about the girl. It’s not the correct answer.

“There is another woman who shares this room with us,” Teagan repeats. “What is her name?” Arden is silent for a good while, but Teagan waits patiently. Arden seems to have boundless patience with her and Calla’s antics, so Teagan can afford her this one moment.

Eventually, Arden’s brow smooths and her voice loses the questioning tone. “Calla Eleanor Curtis,” she responds.

A small, proud smile quirks at Teagan’s lips. “That is correct, Arden,” she says. “I want you to tell me what you remember from yesterday so I can understand what made you slip.”

“May I sit up?” Arden asks, voice unsure. She sounds like she expects a scolding for even asking, and not for the first time, Teagan is reminded that not everyone has loving, carefree parents like she did. Arden was taught to defer to her elders for anything and everything. Even something as simple as being allowed to sit up.

Teagan needs to correct this. “Do you need to ask permission?” The question isn’t stern or judgemental, meant only to jumpstart the other woman’s brain into remembering her gained independence. The response to her question is Arden slowly pushing herself into a sitting position, sliding back to press her back firmly against the wall. Arden grew up in a harsh environment where trust was hard to come by and more likely to be faked then real. Instead of trusting a person to watch her back, she puts it against a wall. That changed when she got out of that toxic environment and Teagan began showing her what normal life is like.

“I remember waking up confused,” Arden begins, and Teagan listens intently without saying anything. “I didn’t know where I was at. When I began looking for you and Calla, I saw someone standing over you and almost attacked. I recognized the figure before I could.”

“Please identify the figure for me, Arden,” Teagan interrupts. She has a sneaking suspicion of who it is, but wants to confirm it.

“Mark Fischbach, ranked first of top ten in the One-Hundred-Second Training Corps,” Arden says, a little bit of confidence bleeding back into her voice.

Teagan nods slowly. “Thank you,” she says. “Please continue.” Arden pauses, seemingly to gather her thoughts, before she nods and continues.

“I ran out of soap. My uniform shirt had a hole. Breakfast made me nauseous. He kept pushing me and questioning me and it made me… _upset._ He scolded me in the mess hall for not eating. I was still nauseous. He continued to push me.”

Teagan represses the frown that wants to surface and asks, “Please identify the man you are speaking of, Arden.” The questions seem redundant, as Teagan was there and already knows who the catalyst was, but they help Arden solidify important people in her mind.

“Corporal Levi Ackerman, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier,” Arden responds with confidence once more. “He is our Squad Leader.”

“Thank you,” Teagan finds herself repeating. “Continue, please.”

“He ordered me to run the gauntlet again and again. I couldn’t do anything right. I can never do anything right. I’m not good enough. I need to be faster.” _There it is,_ Teagan thinks triumphantly. The continued criticism snapped Arden into the mindset her older brother had brainwashed her into, practically, to turn her into a weapon. She was constantly told that she wasn’t good enough, that she needed to be better, be faster. “He walked away from me. Everyone always walks away from me.” Teagan also knows that her parents would often make up stories of monsters that lurked in the shadows outside their home in order to scare her into staying inside, to keep her from getting injured. They would often do so just before they left for the night, taking her brother and leaving her alone for hours on end. “They don’t get to walk away anymore. I can’t and neither can they.”

Teagan nods slowly, taking in the information and processing it before choosing her next words carefully. “And do you still feel like you’re not good enough, Arden?” She asks. Teagan knows she’s using the woman’s name a lot more frequently than usual, but just like identifying the people in her story, using Arden’s current—real—name helps solidify it in her mind and bring back the memories associated with it. “Do you still feel like everyone is leaving you alone?”

“No,” Arden says immediately. “To both. I am strong. I am smart. I am fast. I survived and they did not, which means I _am_ good enough. I have you and Calla. I have Sam and Mark and Jack. I am not alone and have not been alone for a very long time.” Teagan breathes a sigh of relief and smiles slightly.

“That’s great, Arden,” she says. “Do you want to talk about your current feelings, or would you like to do some stretches first?”

Arden frowns, finally turning her head to look at Teagan. “Training?” She asks uncertainly.

Teagan shakes her head. “A messenger came by and said that Squad Levi has the day off,” she says. “Stretches or feelings?”

* * *

 

What _does_ Arden want to do? She doesn’t like her emotions, but years with Teagan has taught her that it’s perfectly normal and okay to have them. Stretches are meant to tap into her body again once her brain is sound. Both help calm her, it’s just one is more preferable than the other. Never one to back away from something just because it’s unpleasant, Arden faces the problem area head on.

“I feel guilty,” she confesses, a brief flash of a snippet of conversation. She and Calla in a tent, Teagan asleep between them. “I should not have lost control. Did I seriously injure anyone?”

Teagan shakes her head, bright green eyes sincere. “Calla and I managed to calm you down before anything like that could occur.”

It doesn’t make Arden feel any better about what has happened. She may not like the rest of Squad Levi, but that doesn’t mean they deserved to be subjected to that side of her. “I wish to apologize to them. And him.”

“Okay,” Teagan says readily, always one to encourage her into acting on her emotions. “Do you have any other feelings you’d like to address at the moment?” Arden takes a moment to really ponder the question, sorting through her feelings on the event. Frustration at both losing control and being forced back into a mindset she’s worked so hard to shed. Relief at not hurting anyone. Trepidation at apologizing to people she has hurt who don’t know her or understand why the episode happened.

Arden shakes her head. “No,” she replies finally. “I would like to do my stretches now.” And without waiting for Teagan to say anything in response, she pushes her blankets aside and begins clambering down to the ground. Teagan jumps down, landing solidly, and shakes Calla’s shoulder to wake the still-sleeping woman. Calla sighs but sits up without complaint, rolling her head back and forth to crack her neck.

“Doing okay, Arden?” Is the only thing she says.

“I am,” Arden replies. “Thank you, Calla.” The sentiment goes beyond just checking in on her—Arden knows that Calla was the one who lead her away from the situation, who handed her food when she was out of it. Arden is very loyal and protective of her friends, but they are just as loyal and protective of her. It’s how they survive in such a harsh world that forgives no one. Together, the three of them do various stretches, and Arden lets the pulling sensation in her muscles ground her. She is not a bloodthirsty killer anymore. She is not a scared little girl crying in her bed, nor is she a nobody. She is Specialist Arden Lena Black of the Survey Corps, member of the Special Operations Squad. She was not gifted the position or title—she _earned_ them on her own. She survived when the rest of her family did not. She ascended to freedom and has taken her fate into her own hands. Arden has made herself into someone from nothing, and that is something she is proud of.

“So what now?” Calla asks expectantly, after they’ve all finished their stretches. “Shower?” Arden just nods, moving to collect one of her outfits and a towel. Teagan heads out before either of them, but Arden simply waits for Calla to collect her clothes, towel, and soap. Together they walk out of the dorm and over to the women’s showers. They’re empty, everyone else already gone through and went to practice. Teagan is already inside, holding a new bar of soap, which she presents to Arden. A warmth starts in her chest, and Arden smiles softly at the gesture. Teagan just shoots her one of her signature beaming smiles and disappears into a shower stall. Calla does the same, and Arden situates her things before shedding her sleepclothes and climbing into one as well. She scrubs herself clean of the dried sweat and dirt that accumulated during last night’s events. She soaps through her hair and rinses, finished just as the water cycle times out. Arden wrings her hair dry and pulls her towel into the cubicle, drying her arms and legs before securing the fabric around her scar-riddled body. When she steps out, Teagan is already dressed and brushing through her hair; Calla is just buttoning up her pale pink blouse. Without a word, Arden dries the remaining moisture on her body and begins to dress as well, pulling on her undergarments. She slides on her only pair of trousers and then pulls on her tunic top that stops in the middle of her thighs.

And then Arden sits to begin braiding Teagan’s hair. Calla waits patiently, brushing through her golden locks. “I’m going to apologize to Captain Levi and the rest of the Special Operations Squad,” she says as her fingers quickly twist Teagan’s chocolate brown locks into her preferred hairstyle. Teagan knows this, but Arden is not in the habit of keeping any member of their trio in the dark. There are no secrets between them. Secrets only cause problems and rifts—something she learned from her brother.

The look Calla gives her plainly tells Arden the golden-haired woman’s opinion. “Are you sure?” Calla asks. “It was the Captain’s fault. And Bozado didn’t help.” Arden pins Teagan’s hair in place and taps her shoulder. Teagan moves obligingly, bouncing away to gather up her things. Calla takes a seat and once again, Arden sets to work.

“I agree that Captain Levi pushed me and his actions caused me to slip,” Arden begins calmly, her voice losing the scared softness and taking on a gentle tone. This is her natural voice, nothing like the one she uses to ensure her presence is noticed. The older, tougher layers of her have been stripped away, leaving behind something that Arden never had the chance to be. “And that Specialist Bozado continued to worsen the situation. Be that as it may, Calla, they did not deserve the treatment they got.”

Calla is silent for a long moment, and in that moment, Arden ties her hair into place and secures her ribbon around the bun. “The choice is yours, Arden,” she says eventually. “And I respect it. But I also have to note my own opinion and say that Captain Levi has caused us more harm than he’s actually helped us. You’ve never hesitated to take care of anyone else who has put us in harm’s way, so what makes him different?” The question brings Arden up short. The first thing she wants to do is deny it, but as she thinks, she has to admit the truth in Calla’s words. Captain Levi attacked Calla when she wasn’t expecting it. He’s placed Teagan in an attack maneuver position that, if the other members of the squad aren’t careful, can easily be injured with blades and 3DMG wires. When she was in Marlene’s squad, he deliberately ordered her to take out a titan, going against her squad objectives. And he has been able to push her into an episode—though really, he was just the catalyst.

Calla _is_ right, however. Arden has never hesitated to cut out anyone or anything that might put them in danger. So why _is_ Levi Ackerman so different? He has endangered them all multiple times, but she continues to allow him to do so.

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Arden replies honestly. “Thank you for sharing. I will… have to figure that out. Do you feel as though you are in danger? Do you wish to transfer to another squad?”

Calla spins around, air pushing through her nose in an angry woosh. “No! Forget about me, Arden—think about yourself! You haven’t had an episode in nearly five years now, and just months after being placed in _his_ squad, you snap! _That isn’t okay!_ I don’t understand what you see in him!” Calla’s usually hard blue eyes are rapidly filling with tears, her voice cracking and breaking. Instantaneously, Teagan is back, wrapping her arms around Calla and pulling her close. Calla doesn’t fight the hold, leaning into Teagan’s body, but her eyes don’t leave Arden’s.

Unwilling tears spring to Arden’s eyes, but she pushes them back. “I see a broken man,” she begins, voice thick, “who has watched those close to him die. I see a man who has used their deaths to fuel him, to give him strength. I see a strong man who has risen to the top despite all that he’s seen. And I have to believe that, because if I don’t, then everything I’ve done thus far means _nothing._ He makes me angry, and his actions confuse me, but he—” he _what?_ Where was Arden going with this? “—he makes me believe that there is still good left in humanity.” No, that’s not right. “He inspires me to keep fighting for others so I can save myself.” No, that’s not right either! What the hell does he make her feel?

Teagan, still holding a distressed Calla, speaks up. “Have you ever considered that you might be attracted to the Captain, Arden?” Arden blinks, balking at the question. She’s felt attraction to men before, but never had the want to act on it. This doesn’t feel like attraction—but then, she might be confusing attraction with lust. She knows that feeling too, but once again, has never acted on it. Survival comes before all else. Maybe this is attraction, and all the other times were just lust.

“I… I don’t know.” Arden whispers. “How can you tell the difference?”

Calla gives her a pained grin. “He frustrates you, Arden, but he doesn’t make you angry. He’s gone out of his way to try and get you to open up to him. I’ve— _we’ve_ —seen the way you two look at one another. I may not like him, but I’m not an idiot.” Arden’s gaze drops to the bench she’s sitting on, unsure how to process this information. She always assumed his intense interest in her due to her issued challenge, and that may be part of it, but if what her friends say is true, then maybe it’s not the whole reason.

“Maybe we should leave this topic for a little,” Teagan suggests. “But I feel like you should really think about this, Arden.” Both Calla and Arden nod. “Why don’t you go say your apologies now?”

“In a second,” Arden says, sliding forward on the bench and pulling Calla into a fierce hug, not bothering to heed Teagan’s arms still wrapped around the golden-haired woman. “I apologize that I put you through so much stress. You didn’t deserve that.” Calla returns the hug instantly, her grip just as tight, and her face buries itself into Arden’s shoulder.

“I accept your apology,” Calla murmurs. “And I apologize for yelling. I haven’t journaled in a couple days now.” Arden just squeezes tighter. Calla’s journal is one of the few ways she can let go of her feelings without getting into arguments. When she doesn’t journal, her emotions bottle up and she explodes, though hers are much less dangerous than Arden’s. All the stress of the last few days and the upcoming expedition must really be getting to her.

“I accept your apology,” Arden mimics Calla’s earlier words. “Why don’t you go journal while I take care of my things? Later tonight we can have a gathering with just the three of us.” They used to have gatherings every night before they joined the military, either before or after Arden’s training sessions. During that time they discussed things happening to them personally to people they trust. They shared stories and jokes. They bonded. Arden’s missed them over the past four years.

Calla pulls back from the hug enough to look at Arden’s face. There are still tear tracks on her face, but she gives a genuine smile. “I’d like that, Arden,” she says. Arden loops an arm around Teagan’s waist and pulls her close, and the brunette wraps an arm around Arden’s shoulders in return.

“We will stand tall,” Teagan begins.

Calla huffs a small laugh. “We will stay strong,” she continues.

“And most importantly,” Arden smiles. “We will be together.”

* * *

 

Arden spends the next hour and a half locating the members of Squad Levi and apologizing for her behavior. Schultz and Jinn were less opinionated on the event, accepting her apology and willing to move on. Ral seemed jumpy and nervous around her, even after the apology. Bozado glared sullenly at her, but grumbled some sort of acceptance and waved her off. The last person is Captain Levi himself, and even though she has no way to confirm this, her gut tells her he is in his office. The closer she gets to his door, the heavier her body feels. The earlier conversation with her friends keeps spinning through her brain, and she is almost constantly questioning her feelings for him. If she is attracted to him, does the man return the feeling? It’s not something she feels comfortable asking—besides, it’s not appropriate. He’s her _Captain,_ her Squad Leader. He is a Corporal and she is just a specialist. Arden doesn’t know the rules on fraternization between members of the Survey Corps, but she can’t imagine that a Corporal being in a relationship with a lower ranked member looks good.

 _I need to focus,_ the more stable part of Arden’s brain says, kicking in. _It’s not about the feelings I can’t identify. It’s about my guilt. I’ve come to apologize, nothing else._ And just like that, Arden is able to shove everything into a little box to obsess over later. Arden navigates her way over to Captain Levi’s office, takes a deep breath, steels her nerves, and then knocks twice.

“Name and business.” Arden briefly wonders why he always sounds to annoyed, but then shakes that aside as well.

“Arden Black, Sir,” she calls, her voice still unnervingly gentle. “I’m here concerning last night’s events.” There is no response from inside the office. Arden shifts, beginning to wonder if maybe she shouldn’t have waited for him to approach her, but then the door is pulled open. He’s still in uniform—Arden doesn’t know why she expected anything less—and his usual scowl is missing.

“Come in, Black,” he says, the words not quite an order, yet still not something she should ignore. A forceful suggestion sounds a bit harsh for the situation, but it fits. He steps aside and Arden walks into the immaculately clean office. She is not unawares of the Captain’s fanatic cleaning methods. And while she is a cleanly person, he puts even her to shame. “Take a seat.” He gestures to the small sofa, and she sits without thinking. She feels small and insecure again as he sits in a new addition—an armchair. Bright red, padded, and looking for all the world like what Arden imagines the throne to look like, it doesn’t match his style. It’s too gaudy. Maybe a gift?

Once again pushing that thought aside, Arden pulls in a breath. “I apologize for my behavior last night,” she rushes out, fearing that he will stop her or start yelling at her. “It was uncalled for and should not have happened. It _won’t_ happen again, you have my—”

“Stop, Black.”

* * *

 

Levi watches the woman’s mouth close immediately, and that’s when he sees something in her demeanor that has never been there before— _fear._ He doesn’t know if she’s scared of him or if she’s scared of what his reaction will be. She wasn’t at breakfast or lunch. He’d been debating all day on if he should try to find her and talk to her, knowing that Curtis would most definitely be a pain in the ass. Marlow too, from her protective behavior last night. Black is protective of them, but they return it just as fiercely. He was honestly about to get up and begin looking for her when she showed up at his office, and then begins _apologizing_ when none of it was her fault. _He_ pushed her too far. _He_ triggered something in her that caused the event.

She’s fidgeting, clearly nervous, looking for all the world like she’s expecting to get scolded. He tries to soften his face, keep his voice gentle. She looks so subdued, like someone’s who has spent years being suppressed and hidden and used. Levi doesn’t like this look on her. He wants to find the people responsible and make them pay. “You have no reason to apologize to me, Black,” Levi continues to put Black at ease. There’s a little bit of an immediate effect. She still looks uncomfortable, clearly ready to argue. “I could tell you were having a bad day and I deliberately pushed you. I stepped over a line and I’m sorry.” The words feel strange and tight on his tongue. Levi can’t remember the last time he verbally apologized to someone, even if in the wrong. What he did to her was not okay, and he recognizes that, so he needs to apologize.

“I accept your apology,” Black replies quietly, unable to meet his gaze. “But I mean it when I say that it won’t happen again.”

Uncomfortable, Levi shifts in his chair. It wasn’t something he’d _wanted,_ but Erwin had insisted he needed one in his office and it was the only one available. “And I mean it when I say I will be more mindful when pushing you.” He phrases his words carefully. He won’t promise to not push her ever again—for purely selfish reasons. When he does, she… comes _alive,_ and it’s breathtaking, fascinating. The fire in her eyes, the sureness of her movements, the determination on her face.

Black hesitates, then lifts a hand from her lap and offers it to him. “Are we… okay, then?” She asks. A small, surprised smile pulls at the corner of his mouth at the gesture. It’s so unlike her, but then maybe what he’s seen up until now is just a front, and she’s being more true to herself in this moment.

Levi reaches out and clasps her palm in his, giving a firm shake. “We are,” he confirms.

* * *

 

After dinner, Arden, Calla, and Teagan converge in their room. They pull blankets and pillows down from the bunks and use them to create a makeshift nested tent, huddling inside. Arden shares the events of the day. Calla tells some legends that she’d been told during her childhood. Teagan cracks a few jokes and even teaches them a hand-clapping game that she used to play with the other kids in her village. They laugh and talk and use the time and familiar nature of the gathering to decompress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this out as fast as I could for you guys! Next update might not be for a bit.
> 
> And yes, I am purposely feeding you tiny tidbits of Arden's past to keep you waiting. Sorry-not-sorry. Gotta happen!


	16. Downhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fifty-Fourth Expedition has finally arrived, and with it, complications that cause the Trio to go downhill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this story is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owners. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that may surface during the course of the story.

Four weeks fly by. Arden struggles to keep track of them, but the looming dread of the event that follows them is never far from her mind. She’s survived one expedition outside the Walls, but that does not give her any confidence. Complacence and arrogance will get one killed. Arden has ensured that her friends are ready, but she cannot prevent any occurrences that may happen outside. The best she can do is hope that Calla and Teagan are on top of it—and if they aren’t, that she will be able to reach them in time. She will do everything in her power to make sure they survive. It’s supposed to be a longer expedition this time, just brushing on three weeks. They are to find some sort of village that might have new supplies that are badly needed, spend a week thoroughly combing through it, and then make their way back. Unfortunately, most of the nearby villages have already been looted, and this one is a week’s journey there and back, assuming nothing bad happens. 

Arden scowls, packing a bag. She wants to follow Marlene’s rules about packing light, but this trip doesn’t allow for it. More supplies are needed for three weeks as opposed for three days, and that immediately creates more weight than Arden wants. Realistically, she knows that Spirit can easily take it—that horse has more damn muscles than she does—but she doesn’t like it. Still unhappy, Arden theorizes that, if absolutely necessary, she can throw the supplies off. Be that as it may, she makes sure to keep her water canteen in the saddlebag itself instead of her personal items. Calla is already asleep, having crashed as soon as dinner ended. Teagan isn’t too far behind, sleepily brushing through her hair, laid in bed and quietly watching Arden as she works.

“Just sleep, Tee,” Arden murmurs without looking up from her task. “The next few weeks are going to be pretty stressful.”

Teagan doesn’t respond for a bit. “Do you think we’ll all come out alive?”

Arden glances up at her from underneath her fringe, having taken down her hair from the braided twintails after returning from dinner. “Don’t talk like that,” Arden says simply, trying to keep the scolding tone from her voice. “The minute you begin thinking of all the disasters that could happen is the minute you lose all focus and get killed. Stay strong, stay ready, and keep sharp.”

Another beat of silence, and then, “Calla has a bad feeling about tomorrow.” Arden frowns. Her own instincts and gut feelings are pretty good, but Calla’s gut feelings seem to be spot on. If she feels like something bad will happen, it most likely will. This is something both she and Teagan have proven many times over the years of knowing Calla. Arden can only hope that she’s wrong this one time.

“Stay strong, stay ready, and keep sharp,” Arden repeats firmly, returning to her task. She deftly folds one of her uniform shirts and tucks it into the bag before closing it. “And sleep. No matter what, you and Calla will be okay.” If Teagan notices that Arden did not include herself in that statement, she doesn’t say anything. Arden hears the clatter of a wooden brush handle against the windowsill and shifting as Teagan gets comfortable. Arden listens until she hears a Teagan’s breathing deepen before she lets out a sigh. Calla’s gut has never been wrong before, and this time most likely won’t be any different. She just has to stay on her toes and make sure her friends survive at all costs. If Arden is being honest with herself, she hasn’t had good feelings about the expedition either. Something seems off, and she can’t just put it down to nerves. Something is definitely going to happen. Arden sets her bag aside and stands, stretching out her legs which are tense from kneeling for a while. With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure that her friends are sleeping and will not wake up, she exits their room and pads barefoot down the hallway. The halls are mostly dark, save for the few and far between candles lit on the walls. She finds the nearest exit and steps outside into the cool night air, raising her pale green eyes to the moon shining above. Arden remembers the years she spent aching to see the moon, wondering what it looked like. Even now, having seen it night after night, the view never gets old.

A gentle breeze picks up, pushing through her thin clothes and raising gooseflesh on her arms and legs. Shaking herself from her thoughts, Arden moves off towards the stables, being sure to watch where she steps. Once in the stable, she finds Spirit’s stall. The stallion is still awake, seemingly waiting for her. Arden smiles, unlocking his stall door and stepping inside. “Hey, fella,” she murmurs. “What are you still doing up, huh? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” The horse nickers in response, nuzzling his soft nose into her offered palm. “Are you worried too?” Spirit lets out a soft whinny, as if confirming her question. “You keep watch over Hadley and Dash, don’t you? And me.” Spirit lets out a huff, moving from her hand to nuzzle her cheek instead. Arden chuckles softly, reaching up to stroke his neck. “We’ll make sure they survive.”

“Aren’t you cold?” For some reason, Arden doesn’t flinch at the low voice—at  _ his _ voice. Despite her words, Arden has still not put much thought into the feelings he evokes in her. It’s too uncomfortable and she needs to focus on the expedition. Maybe the fact that he doesn’t send her into instinctive attack mode should be something to worry about, but she can revisit that later.

Arden shrugs. “It’s just a little night air,” she responds. “Not that bad.”  _ I’ve been through worse. _ The words go unsaid, left hanging in the air. She turns to look at him over her shoulder, Spirit hovering over her protectively.

He’s staring at her with a cool, impassive look, and Arden takes a moment to realize that Captain Levi is not wearing his uniform jacket or cravat. It looks strange, but it’s not something she  _ dislikes, _ necessarily—she’s just not used to it. It makes him look less severe somehow, but that might be the fact that he’s not sporting his usual scowl.

Instead of responding to her vague comment like she hoped, he says, “You’re worried about tomorrow.” Arden keeps herself from tensing, wondering when the Captain got so good at reading her. “It’s not that hard to guess. Before you didn’t have your little friends to watch over. Now you’re going to do anything to keep them safe. What I want to know is if you want them to be safe so badly, why did you let them join?”

Arden turns back and strokes Spirit a few more times. “I don’t make their decisions for them,” Arden informs her Captain, stepping out of the stall and latching the door closed once more, keeping her back to him for as long as possible. “I joined the military. They decided to join as well. I didn’t tell them to do it.” Finally, she turns around again, meeting his unreadable gaze.

“But you didn’t stop them, either,” he points out. “For someone so protective over them, that doesn’t seem very helpful.”

Arden clenches her jaw, trying to hold back her frustrations at his comments. “We never had the freedom to choose our futures with our families,” she tells him quietly, voice hard. “And now they do. I won’t take that choice away from them unless it’s life or death.”

His face never changes, voice calm and unnerved. “Then why did someone like you decide to join the deadliest branch of the military? You could have easily gone to the Military Police.”

Arden snorts in derision. “Those worms are so corrupt and twisted they don’t know up from down,” she spits in disgust. Then her face smooths back into a carefully-crafted mask of indifference. “At least here I’m doing something productive, at least for my own sanity.”

“But you knew they would follow you,” he says.

Arden nods slowly. “I did,” she admits. “They trust me to keep them safe. They want to protect me. But if it’s me or them, I will always choose to save them.” She feels raw and vulnerable, explaining this to him. She doesn’t even remember consciously making the decision to tell him these things, but she feels like someone needs to understand the actions she may be forced to take. “Teagan was there for me when no one else was. She’s all alone and hides it with her smiles and personality. Calla seems brash and snobbish, but it’s just what was expected of her for most of her life. They mean everything to me. I’m just scared of what they might do without me.” That last bit wasn’t supposed to come out, but it’s been a recurring fear of Arden’s for years. She got Teagan out of a bad situation, but couldn’t save her parents. Calla abandoned everything she could have had—wealth, respect, and a stable future—just to learn how to survive on her own, how to fight and know she’ll come out on top, and because of that, her family practically disowned her. In a way, Arden woke them up from a nightmare and has stayed ever since. They have both repeated that without her, they wouldn’t be the people they are. “I want to say that they’ll follow the person I trust the most, someone whom I respect a great deal, but I don’t know for sure.”

The Captain appraises her coolly. “Are you planning on dying, Black?” He asks.

Her answer is immediate. “No. But no one ever plans on dying,” she replies. “I will do anything and everything to get back to safety should something happen, but I will not allow them to join in my struggle.”

He nods slowly, seemingly processing her words in his own time. Arden shifts her weight from her left foot to her right, waiting. “Then are you asking me to ensure their survival?”

Now it’s her turn to appraise him, trying to get a read on his voice and facial expressions, on his body language—anything to help her guage the right response. “You’ll try,” she finally decides on. “You try to bring everyone you can back to the Walls, but even you know you can’t save everyone. You won’t put them before everyone else, but you will try to ensure their survival whether I ask you or not. But it’s not outside the Walls that worries me. It’s what they might to to themselves when they return to safety.” Yes, getting eaten or crushed by a titan is a very real issue—but that is what they have been  _ training _ for. Arden believes wholeheartedly in her friends’ skills and capabilities to survive an attack from the titans, but she can’t train them for how to survive when you lose someone you care so deeply about. It takes a mindset, a strength, that not everyone possesses. Arden can only hope that, in her absence, they band together and encourage each other to live, no matter what.

No matter how much it kills her, Arden knows she can’t save them from themselves.

Captain Levi gently jerks his chin in the direction of the compound. “Go sleep, Black,” he orders firmly. It’s not aggressive, but it’s definitely an order he expects her to follow. “And I expect you to eat a full meal in the morning.” It’s his way of trying to take care of her, though it’s not necessary—and yet… not unwelcome, either. She hasn’t had anyone to take care of her in a very long time. Sure, Teagan and Calla are there for her and they make sure she’s okay, that she’s safe, that she’s protected from any harm… but they don’t tell her to eat or sleep. They don’t freak out when she puts on a compromised 3DMG harness.

Arden finds herself smiling softly as she says, “Yes, Captain.” She salutes and gives Spirit’s nose one last stroke before taking her leave, padding back into the compound and into her room. The smile leaves her face. Something bad will happen tomorrow. Calla has felt it, and Arden can honestly say she’s felt it too. Arden quietly climbs into her bunk and slips under the blanket. Something bad will happen tomorrow.

But she is ready for it.

After all—she’s survived this long, hasn’t she?

* * *

 

Morning comes too fast, and even though Arden drifted off a few times, she didn’t actually get any fitful sleep. The sun is nowhere close to rising, but that is exactly what they need. In order to be at Wall Maria by sunrise, they need to leave within the next hour and a half. That’s just enough time for one last decent meal, to gather and ready supplies and to set off at a brisk pace. Arden climbs down from her bunk and lights a lantern with ease. The glow illuminates the room slightly, just enough for her friends to see. “Teagan, Calla, wake up,” Arden says, setting down the lantern and pulling open her drawer. “We’re not showering today. Get dressed and make sure you have everything you need. Do it now.” Her tone brokers no arguments, no room for disobedience. Yes, she will not make their decisions for them, will not take away their choices—but when they asked her to train them how to fight, how to survive, she made them promise to listen to her no matter what when it came to training.

This is still part of that training.

Arden pulls out a uniform set, neatly folded as usual, and then closes her drawer. There is motion behind her, the mattress groaning as her friends get up. She puts her uniform on the bunk below hers and begins to strip. Nudity wasn’t uncommon in her childhood and she’s almost numb to it. Arden doesn’t care what her body looks like. She knows her skin pale, but not porcelain pale like Calla’s. She knows she has scars and imperfections that litter her short frame, attesting to her harsh upbringing and showcasing her struggle to survive. She knows she has significant muscle mass built up in her abdomen, legs, and arms from both her own rigorous routine and military training. Arden just doesn’t care. She pulls on her undergarments and then her standard-issue sleeveless top. After that is her pants. She never cared for the tightness of them, but recognize the importance when it comes to 3DMG. Next comes the button-up shirt that is carefully tucked into the pants. Once dressed, Arden moves around her friends, who are gathered near the dresser, to collect her harness. With a practiced ease borne from the years of dealing with them, she begins the task of hooking up the belts properly. The belts around her feet used to be uncomfortable, but now she’s accustomed to them and pulls on her boots. Arden tightens the buckles to make sure they are snug and then shrugs on her jacket. In accordance to the rest of the dress code, Arden also pulls on the hated cloak. This is the one garment that Arden has never grown to like. The clasp is too close to her throat and all it takes is the edge getting pulled or even a strong enough wind to make it choke her. If it wasn’t dress code, she wouldn’t be wearing it.

“You should check on Jack and the others,” Teagan murmurs from where she is buttoning up her shirt. Arden nods once and turns to the door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway. Arden knocks on the door directly to the right of theirs. There’s a brief moment before the door opens, a bedraggled-looking Sam standing in the door.

“Arden?” Even Sam’s voice is rough from sleep. “What’s up?”

Arden gives her a small smile. “Breakfast is in twenty,” she informs the other black-haired girl. “I would suggest being ready. We leave right after.”

“Oh,” Sam says, voice dropping and becoming more insecure. “Right. Thanks, Arden—we’ll see you in there.” Arden nods and the door is shut, but she can’t help but think the whole interaction is wrong. Sam is usually calm and confident, not quiet and insecure. She’s not sure what happened to force the younger woman into such a state, but there’s nothing that can be done at the moment. Arden can only hope it won’t affect Sam’s judgement. Before Arden can turn back to the room, Calla and Teagan step out into the hall. Like her, they wear the full uniform, including the cloak. Arden hooks her arms around theirs and starts pulling them down the hall. They don’t question it or even comment, just go along with the flow. Just like the last expedition, the mess hall is quiet. Arden is given her food without a word and she moves to sit at her normal table. Teagan sits on her right and Calla sits on her left, and they begin eating quietly. Arden feels eyes on her, watching her every move. Eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare, she scans the room, searching for the culprit. She finds him sitting with the other Squad Leaders and the Commander as well, just a table over from the rest of the Special Operations Squad. Her odd Captain is staring at her—making sure she eats. Arden, keeping his gaze, takes a very deliberate bite of her tasteless breakfast, chews, and swallows.

Mark, Jack, and Sam sit down, blocking her view, but Arden shifts her gaze over to Sam instead. The younger woman still looks dejected, sitting closer to Calla than she is to Mark. Jack seems oddly subdued as well, despite the fact that within the hour they’ll be on their way to an expedition. His blue eyes keep flicking between Mark and Sam, clearly uncomfortable. Mark is glaring at the table, aggressively jabbing his fork into his eggs. Arden frowns.

“Whatever happened, put it behind you,” Arden tells them, gathering the attention of the entire table. “You need to be focused at all costs out there, and looking at you now, you’ll be dead in seconds if you don’t find a way to put it out of your minds.” Her voice is harsh, bearing the truth they’ve been denying up until this point. They stare at her, silently, eyes reflecting their emotions. “Leave what happened here until you come back and then hash it out. If you die out there, there will be consequences back here.” Arden makes an effort to soften her features. “Whatever it is, it isn’t worth dying for.”

Sam’s eyes harden and she nods. “You’re right, Arden,” she says quietly. Then a small, breathy laugh escapes her lungs, followed by, “You’re always right.”

Arden shakes her head. “No, I’m not. I’m just a realist.” And she is. Arden knows that she is far from perfect and makes plenty of mistakes, but survival in dangerous situations is one of her specialties. “Just keep your wits about you.” She eyes Mark especially, and he quickly glances away, looking ashamed. Arden gets the distinct feeling that he’s the instigator of the tension, but has no time to pull him aside and bring it up now. They may be friends, but he may not feel like sharing. And besides, he just needs to push it aside for now and questioning him about it won’t help in the slightest.

* * *

 

Arden tightens the saddle strap around Spirit’s midsection, tying it in a knot and tucking it under the stirrup. She then makes sure her supplies are secured to the saddle, talking to Spirit all the while. If those around her hear, they don’t say anything and she is able to complete her task in peace. Arden secures the saddlebags in place and then checks her gear. Her gas tanks are brand new and her blades are sharp enough to accidentally sever a limb. Irritated, she uses a finger to pull the clasp of her cloak away from her throat and then grasps the reins, pulling Spirit out of the stall. She clicks her tongue and Spirit curls his hoof back and Arden boosts herself up into the saddle. She strokes his neck.

“Thanks, Fella,” she murmurs, watching his ears flick backwards at her voice to better hear her. He nickers in response and a small smile crosses her lips. Arden digs her heels into his sides and clicks her tongue twice. Spirit moves forward without hesitation and she guides him out of the stables, heading directly for her Captain. He eyes her coolly, but then moves to watch the rest of his squad gather. Arden stays silent. Calla, scowling, steers Hadley towards Arden. Spirit huffs in greeting, moving his head forwards to greet Hadley and nudge her into line. Dash, in accordance with his name, bolts over to them despite the somber air.

“C’mon, Dash, not now,” Teagan is complaining, trying to rein her unruly ride in.

Spirit, noticing the problem, lets out a gruff whinny. Dash immediately sobers up, snorting a response and falling in line. It’s then that Arden remembers that Spirit was the leader of the herd back at the training corps, where Hadley and Dash are from as well.

“Tch.” Arden’s eyes narrow at the derogatory noise. “You better keep that beast under control out there, Marlow.”

“He won’t be a problem, Sir, I promise,” Teagan replies, completely oblivious to the harshness of the tone. 

The Captain eyes Dash disbelievingly before saying, “See to it.” He clears his throat, garnering the attention of the whole squad. “Eld will ride right and Black will ride left. Marlow will ride center. Petra will flank Marlow on the right and Schultz will be on the left. Curtis and Oulo will bring up the rear. Marlow, you are in charge of relay flares, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.” Flares are a new device invented by Squad Leader Hanji and quickly spread. They consist of a gun-like device that fires colored smoke rounds into the air as a form of communication through the ranks. It’s a faster and safer means of communication, and so Marlene’s Squad has been repurposed and is no longer the messenger squad. Each squad has a relay member tasked with responding to signals sent by the Commander and then furthering the message along the line. Even now, Arden can see the special holster connected to Teagan’s saddle, right in reach, with a bag of refills to go along with it. The brunette woman had gone through extensive training to learn how to properly handle them since they’re so new.

The Captain nods, face stony. “Good. Pay attention. Black, the formation is different, but you will call out any potential threats. Our job is to eliminate as many of them as we can in order to keep the mission on track. Is that understood?” While the others echo their understanding, Arden stay’s grimly silent. Her own negative feeling about this escapade is growing worse by the second. Instead of the squads splitting up, they will stay in one mass. Arden isn’t sure which one is worse—being in smaller groups that are easily picked off, or being in one large group where, if panic ensues, it will be extremely difficult to get her friends and herself out in one piece. “Black.”

“I understand,” she replies through clenched teeth. She’s to call out possible threats. Understood. Move on. If he notices her tense posture, he doesn’t say anything—then again, there isn’t much of a chance to, seeing as the call is given and everyone begins moving. It’s still dark and will be for some time, the way only lit by lanterns, when her squad, near close to the middle of the pack, finally begins to move at a decent, brisk pace. Arden guides Spirit into position and then lets him do the rest of the work, calculating and creating a game plan. The distance from the Survey Corps headquarters in the heart of Wall Rose to the the actual Wall itself, at their current speed, should take them about four and a half hours to ride. Then, after inside Wall Maria, it should take another three hours to reach the gate. She essentially has seven and a half hours ahead to her to attempt to think of everything that could go wrong and then create a plan for each situation.

The most likely situation to happen is a large amount of titans attacking the troup. If that is the case, there is no telling just how many might be attacking or how large the mass panic will be. Most of these people have been on multiple expeditions and are seasoned, but fear is a very strong motivator in humans—fear leads to panic, panic leads to blank minds. Arden will remain with the troup unless Squad Levi breaks, and then it will be fighting for Calla and Teagan. She might try to save those she can, but her first and foremost concern. 

Another likely situation is that the troup is forced off-course and the expedition takes much longer than is planned for. They only have enough food rations for three weeks. Should they run out, it could be very bad. Arden is used to small amounts of food, just enough for her body to keep running. She’s gone for quite a bit without substantial sustenance. Teagan became accustomed to less food when living on the streets, but Arden always made sure she was fed at least twice every day. Calla has never known a day without three meals. Her rations will be given to her friends without question, and perhaps hunting groups will be sent out in an effort to find food, as dangerous as that is. Water is another issue—clean water, that is. With any luck, the village they’re supposed to be locating will have a well that isn’t dried up, or in a dire situation, they’ll find a stream to collect water from and then boil it to purify.

But that scenario brings up the thought that they might not find the village at all. Whilst Arden has learned and memorized every single map that the Survey Corps owns of outside the Walls, she has never seen or heard of this village because it’s beyond explored territory. They’re going off of a few reports from years past that this place even exists. There are two outcomes to the situation. The first is that the village either does not exist or has been trampled beyond use. There won’t likely be any supplies to be collected and they’ll be forced to make camp and then return empty handed. The second is that the village exists and has viable supplies that can be brought back. It’s then that they have to find a way to transport the goods back—though Arden believes that wagons have been brought in preparation for that. Still, wagons are heavy and if there is an attack, losing them will be the easiest way to save more lives, and then they will return empty handed.

Arden scowls, this expedition seeming more and more like a death sentence as she thinks. Supplies are needed in the Walls, yes, but every single scenario does not seem to support them being brought back. Or at the very least, not enough of them being brought back. Surely the Commander recognized this before authorizing it? Why waste lives unnecessarily for things such as this? Absentmindedly, Arden reaches up to pull the cloak away from her throat. Of course, she has never understood politics beyond the Military Police being nothing but the King’s corrupt lapdogs—and don’t get her started on the King himself. Of course Arden has never met the man, never even  _ seen _ him, but if she ever does, it won’t be pretty. She’s more than likely to haul off and punch him for being a goddamn coward, hiding in his palace day in and day out than she is to bow or anything of that sort. Arden has no respect for that man.

The odds of Teagan, Calla, and herself surviving this expedition are getting slimmer and slimmer—and that’s not even including the other half of the 102nd or even the rest of the Special Operations Squad. There are eleven people that Arden feels as if she is somewhat responsible for keeping track of. Teagan and Calla are and always have been her top priority, but Mark, Sam, and Jack come in at a close second. Even the rest of Squad Levi—Arden may not like their personalities, but she respects their skill, the fact that they’ve all gone on multiple expeditions and come back alive without fail. She feels responsible for looking after Captain Levi, too, because he’s her backup plan. He will make sure her friends get out if she does not. And… she definitely has feelings for him, even if she’s unsure what they are. If he were to die, she would be…  _ distraught. _ Not that she thinks he  _ will _ die anytime soon, but still.

“Oi.” His quiet voice breaks part of her attention away from her planning, and Arden’s chin twitches towards him minutely. “Get your head out of your ass, Black. We’re approaching the gate.” Arden looks up, and when she actually focuses on what’s ahead of her, she can see the first rays of sun peeking over the horizon, followed by the sight of the gate in Wall Maria. How had seven and a half hours gone by so fast? Arden straightens her posture, shoulders tensing as the gates begin to open and they break into a gallop. She reins Spirit back to keep his speed from knocking them out of formation.

Five minutes.

That is how long it takes to get the entirety of the Survey Corps out of the Walls and for the gate to be shut firmly behind them. Having already created boundaries, Arden re-acclimates herself to them and then gets to work, marking out titans and informing her Captain dutifully. Whenever one gets too close for comfort, the Captain—most likely following orders in accordance to a plan that she is not aware of—instructs a few of his squad to move in and dispatch it. Arden has never stopped to think about her own very small kill count—two unassisted, and by the time they make camp for the night, a total of five assisted as well. Nothing out of the ordinary. A member of the newly-inducted 103rd Training Corps gets snapped up before anyone can reach him and bring the titan down.

Arden keeps watch that night, inside her shared tent with Calla and Teagan. Since she was forced to bring more supplies this time, Arden decided against logic and reason of survival and brought a newly-acquired book. She reads until she deems it time to begin getting ready for the day. She hadn’t bothered to change clothes—she’d just refilled her gas tanks like instructed and then unhooked them from the belts. She hadn’t even bothered taking off her boots, just in the unlikely case that something might happen in the dead of night. Arden packs up her book and gathers her unused bedroll, still tied up. She’d been using it as a sort of backrest as she read.

“Teagan, Calla,” she says quietly. “Time to wake up.” While her friends rouse themselves, Arden checks in on Sam, Jack, and Mark in the tent just next to them. When she pushes the flap of heavy, weather-proof fabric aside, what she sees is somewhat heartbreaking. Mark and Jack are cuddled together, fast asleep and looking very comfortable. Sam is by herself, on the other side of the tent, looking sad and forlorn even in sleep. Arden wakes them and then moves to collect breakfast rations for all six of them. She finds a 103rd member staring at her with bleary eyes, obviously having pulled a short stick when it came to morning duties. This girl has sandy hair tied into a simple ponytail. Her round face attests to her youth, probably half age and half genetics. Her eyes are a mixture of blue and brown and green, and Arden can’t help but take a closer look at the achingly familiar features. Something sparks in this girl’s eyes.

“Lark?” The single word, though quiet, is devastatingly loud in the early morning air. Arden’s heart stops and her breath catches in her throat. Then she gets a grip on herself and shakes it off.

“Six rations, please,” Arden replies, keeping her face blank. The girl moves to obey, not once taking her eyes from Arden’s face. Arden takes the rations, turns on her heel, and walks away at a steady pace. No. She is not Lark. She is not Zosima. She is Arden Lena Black, the one constant through all the phases of her life. But that girl is the one she once knew, down in the dark hell that had been her nursery, her playground, as Pip. Bitterness curls in her gut—she hopes this girl will perish. Arden instantly hates herself for the thought even crossing her mind. Pip was not at fault for her downfall with the Others, and Arden is hard-pressed to find the actual reason for her resentment of the young girl’s presence—guilt. Out of everyone in that shoddy little camp they’d built for themselves, Arden connected to the little girl the most. She still feels guilty that she left Pip behind all those years ago.

Arden drops off the breakfast rations for the other half of the 102nd and then enters her own shared tent. Teagan and Calla are just tying up their bedrolls when she enters, and Arden hands each of them a ration bar. The bars themselves are fairly tasteless, only matched by the occasional bitterness of some type of strengthening herb. It’s dry and sticks in her mouth, coating her tongue, but Arden just swallows and sets about hooking on her gear. The wakeup call is given, which means they have an hour to tear down camp and get ready to continue.

* * *

 

For the next sixteen days, everything is pretty much the same. Keep track of titans, kill titans, keep track of titans, kill titans, choke down a ration bar, keep track of titans, kill titans, make camp, sometimes sleep, choke down a ration bar, break camp, and repeat. The titans don’t leave them alone, and Arden never expected that they would, but for lack of a better term, it’s  _ quiet. _ Arden doesn’t let her guard down, but it’s getting harder and harder with each monotone day. There has been no sign of the village, though they certainly should have found it at this point in time. Her kill count has moved to twenty-four assisted and six unassisted. It’s rare that she has to kill a titan without a partner at the very least, otherwise she’s sure the second number would be much higher.

The whole experience reminds her of doing laundry in a way. Very much like rinsing the freshly-scrubbed linens, one after the other, over and over again. Quiet.

Too quiet.

“Titan, four o’clock, fourteen yards, possible threat,” Arden informs her Captain, who nods once in response. Arden keeps track of the one for abrupt change, but from the southeast she hears something alarming. The distance extends far beyond those of her limits, but the sound is so loud that Arden can’t help but hear it. It sounds like a long, continuous peal of thunder in a storm, and Arden’s gut is screaming at her to  _ run. _ “Sir, I suggest a purple flare be fired.” It’s the first time she has ever suggested anything—flares or otherwise.

“And why is that, Black?” Captain Levi asks. The sound is getting louder and louder—how has no one else heard this yet? “What emergency do you see?”

Arden turns her chin to meet his gaze. “It’s not one I see,” is all she has the chance to say before panicked yells from behind break out, followed by a purple flare. Arden twists over her shoulder to see multiple colors exploding in the air—purples, blacks, reds. Teagan relays the message by firing a purple flare into the air—this is too big for Squad Levi to deal with. Arden watches the message travel down the line until it reaches the Commander, and a green flare is shot up in response—to the west. The message is carried back down the line and then the horses are set to a gallop. They will have to outrun the horde of titans if they want any chance of survival. Arden curses being at the front of the squad formation—she can’t keep an eye on her friends. And, as if something in her brain clicks, Arden remembers the call she had given just moments before disaster.

Arden’s eyes go impossibly wide and for once, everything isn’t a blur around her—it’s infuriatingly slow, a fly caught in tree sap. “Look out!” She shouts, but her warning is too late, and the titan that had been to their right crashes into sight and plows into Squad Levi, making them scatter. Spirit nimbly leaps out of harm’s way, kicking out with his back hooves to deter a wandering hand that gets too close for comfort. A familiar shout catches her attention, and Arden twists to see Dash’s tail disappearing into a forest of massive trees. Arden finds Calla, moving through the air and taking down the titan with Ral and Schultz. Without further hesitation, Arden pulls the reins towards the trees and urges Spirit forward. As if sensing her urgency, Spirit takes off at top speed after Dash. Arden leans low, matching her body to the curve of his neck, tucking herself into him in order to be smaller and create less wind resistance. Spirit picks up even more speed, and they overtake Dash and Teagan easily. Once beside the panicking pair, Arden reaches over and grasps Dash’s reins and begins pulling them backwards, slowing them to a stop.

“I-I ap-pologize, A-Arden,” Teagan stutters, clearly shaken. “I wasn’t th-thinking and I-I just l-let him g-go where he w-wanted t-to.”

Arden hears the noise too late and unthinkingly throws herself off of Spirit, launching herself at Teagan and knocking them both from their saddles. They hit the ground hard, Arden barely managing to twist herself to take the majority of the fall. A large, meaty hand grasps Dash and crushes, bones breaking and limbs mangling and Teagan cries out in shock. Arden pushes her friend off of her and rolls to her feet, rappelling up the nearest tree and using it as a springboard to launch herself towards the titan, spinning and twisting through the air to land the killing blow and riding the body back down to the ground. Before Arden can do so much as look around, another familiar sound catches her attention.

In the sky is a cloud of yellow, followed by a puff of green.

The mission is terminated. They are to retreat.

“You are getting on Spirit and getting out of here,” Arden says immediately, voice hard and leaving no room for argument. Teagan has managed to pull herself to her feet, but Arden can see that she is still not in the right mindset. Three large strides lands her in front of her oldest friend, and Arden lifts her hand. The resounding  _ smack _ is crisp and sounds more painful than it is. Teagan’s brown eyes immediately snap to her, focused, and a hand raises to a cheek pink with a blood blush. “You will stay focused. You will do as commanded. You and Calla will follow Captain Levi without question.” Arden lets out a low whistle and Spirit immediately trots over to her. Arden grasps the reins and motions for Teagan to get on.

“We can ride dou—”

“We’re too heavy,” Arden cuts her friend off, pulling her towards the horse roughly. “You need to leave now or you’ll get left in the dust.” Teagan scrambles less than gracefully up onto Spirit’s back, nervously grasping the reins, tears streaming down her sun-kissed cheeks. Arden moves to look into Spirit’s eye. “You will get her back to the Walls, you hear, fella?” Spirit nickers in a decidedly disagreeing manner. Arden’s face hardens again. “Get out of here.” Spirit moves forward a bit, but stops and looks over at her. Anger surges forward and her palm connects with his behind. “Go on, get!” Spirit neighs and takes off, Teagan’s sobs flying through the air.

And then Arden is alone, stranded in titan-infested country.

* * *

 

Levi finally manages to gather his scattered squad half an hour into the retreat. They’d lost the titan horde—and quite a few soldiers, he imagines—but now he needs to do a headcount. Black had raced off after Marlow when the girl’s damn horse spooked and there’s been no sign of them. Even Curtis looks uncomfortable, clearly worried sick about her friends. Other than that, his squad is all accounted for and in formation once more, minus the gaps.

Levi’s conversation with Black the night before the expedition nags at his brain.  _ I won’t take that choice away from them unless it’s life or death. But if it’s me or them, I will always choose to save them. _ He’d asked her if she was planning on dying. It was a rhetorical question—he knew the answer was no.

“Sir, Black’s horse has been spotted!” The call comes from Petra, who is pointing behind her. Levi turns to look, and sure enough, Black’s hellbeast of a horse is galloping at full speed towards them. There is no sign of Marlow’s horse, and a sinking feeling settles in Levi’s gut. As the horse gets closer, he is able to make out a single figure on the back, and then a flash of brunette hair.

Marlow, alone, pulls the horse back to a walk and silently falls into position. There are tear tracks on her face. He hears Curtis choke back a sob. “Report, Marlow,” Levi barks lowly.

“Specialist Black is still alive,” Marlow replies, voice wavering and wet with emotion. “But my horse was killed by a titan and she chose to stay behind to allow me to catch up with the group.”  _ Still alive. Of all the hare-brained, goddamn idiotic things to do. _ Levi says nothing. He knows there is nothing to say. They can’t go back for one soldier who chose to stay behind. Erwin would have his head on a fucking pike for even suggesting it—not that he would. Levi knows that they’d only be risking more lives to save one. Black is on her own. 

_ I will do anything and everything to get back to safety should something happen. _

* * *

 

They make it back to the Walls, defeated and subdued. A census is taken. They lost thirty-eight soldiers in the course of four days—thirty-five alone in that titan horde. Levi stares at the list of names. Those killed in action have had whatever remaining parts brought back to the Walls and given to family members. There is a second section to the list, smaller and containing only one name.

 

Missing In Action:

Arden L. Black, age 20

Special Operations Squad, 54th Expedition

 

The words taunt Levi, because he should have known. Black had a bad feeling, somehow  _ knew _ something like this was going to happen, and made plans for it. He should have read the signs—or at least read them better, more thoroughly than he had. They had ridden for sixteen days to reach the location at which Black had been lost, on the far north-eastern edge of the Forest of Giant Trees. It would be a hard enough journey on horseback, but Black is on foot with absolutely no supplies other than her maneuver gear. There is little to no hope of her return to the Walls.

In simple terms, Levi is  _ pissed. _ That damn shitty woman had to go and get under his skin in ways that he’s never felt before, never really  _ let _ himself feel, and then goes and gets herself killed in a glorified suicide move. Curtis and Marlow have retreated into one another, and he never sees one without the other. They are quiet and depressed. Levi always hesitates to use such a strong word to describe people, especially around the Survey Corps, but it is very clear that both women have sunk into loss-induced depression. They barely eat, barely talk, barely leave their room. More than once, Levi has seen the other 102nd brats bring food to Curtis and Marlow in their room—and, surprisingly, a brat from the 103rd as well. It took a few days to figure out the kid’s name—Liana Aylin, a recruit from the Underground City. It all but confirms his suspicion that Black was from the Underground.

Levi crumples the list in his hands and angrily chucks the ball into the bin next to his desk.

_ But if it’s me or them, I will always choose to save them. _

Levi hopes against logic and sound reasoning that Black somehow manages to defy death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please don't kill me.
> 
> On a side note, I created a modern version of Arden, Teagan, and Calla in the Sims 4. Teagan immediately sat down to watch TV, Calls grabbed a book, and Arden began cooking. If that doesn't match their personalities, I don't know what does. 
> 
> (Oh, and then Arden promptly caught the stove on fire. Don't worry—they're all safe.)


	17. To Chase a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally see Arden's childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this story is not entirely mine. Attack on Titan belongs to its rightful owners. Any YouTubers mentioned are their own people. I only own any Original Characters that surface.

“Arden, you may come out of your room and sit at the table,” Mother calls down the hall. Arden abandons her doll on her bed and scrambles off the lumpy, barely-there mattress. She is careful to slip her feet into her boots—the floorboards are splintery, and Mother and Father keep telling her if she’s not careful she’ll get something called infection. Arden has no idea what that means, but they make it sound like it’s a scary monster, so she always wears her boots in the house. Arden hurries down the hall and into the main area of their small home, consisting of one large room and then split into separate areas. There is a kitchen corner and the dining table not far from it. There is a small, dirt fireplace that doesn’t allow for much light or warmth, and a few chairs surround it. That is where they sit in the winter, huddled together under every blanket they own.

Arden pulls out her chair and sits obediently. Father is already sitting, scowling over at the tiny clock mounted on the wall. Aiden is missing, but she knows he went to spend time with his friends. Arden isn’t allowed outside. If she goes without Aiden or even beyond their small, rickety porch, the monsters will get her. They’ll chase her down and swallow her in shadows and give her Sun Sickness. She hears them at night, when all the fires are out and the lanterns are dimmed. They scratch and howl at her window, waiting and watching. They get even louder when Aiden stays out for the night, or when Mother and Father take him with them when they go scavenging.

Mother sets a plate—the blue china faded and cracked, chipped in several places—down on the table in front of her. It is quickly followed by a dull pewter spoon, and then a small glass of water. The door opens, and Aiden shambles into the house, blonde hair flopping over his eye. “Sit, boy,” Father says gruffly, not looking away from the clock.

“Yes, Father,” Aiden mumbles, keeping his head down. The door is firmly shut behind him, and then he sits down in the chair next to hers. Without a word, Mother places a plate and spoon in front of him, followed by Father’s, and then she puts her own plate down and sits. Arden’s stomach grumbles angrily, reminding her of just how little food she’s been given over the past month. She stares down at the portion of orangish-brown mush barely bigger than the size of her fist. It looks yucky and she doesn’t want to eat mashed carrots and potatoes again, but it’s food and Mother and Father will be angry and yell if she throws a tantrum.

“You may eat, children,” Mother says. Arden, despite her dislike of the food, immediately digs in. She has to remember to swallow each bite before taking the next. Beside her, Aiden pokes at his own portion halfheartedly. There is a sharp knock at the door, causing Arden to start. This happens one night a week, and she hates it. Arden and Aiden stay quiet, like they are supposed to, and do not move their eyes from the table as Father gets up and moves to answer the door.

“Xavier!” A loud, deep voice says. It sounds cheerful and happy, but Arden never believes the tone. She knows when Mother and Father and Aiden are just pretending to make everything seem okay, and this man always sounds like they do—forced is the right word for it. Fake, even. “How have you been, old chap?”

“Just fine, Martin,” Father replies stiffly. “You seem good.” Arden quietly takes another bite of her food, chewing despite not needing to, and then swallowing. Her eyes never leave the table, and Aiden’s hand finds hers under the table and squeezes. She’s grateful, because this man scares her.

“Indeed I am, old chap,” Martin chortles. “Might I come in? You won’t mind, right? Hello, Milah.” Mother nods once in acknowledgement. “And here are the little rascals. Aiden, you’ve gotten big. Listen, son, if you ever need a job, Sykes takes care of his own, you hear?” Arden holds her breath, because they are not supposed to talk to this man, but she’s scared of what might happen to her brother if he doesn’t. This man seems mean and dangerous. Mother nods at Aiden.

“Yes, Sir, I hear,” Aiden murmurs quietly. Arden flinches when she hears a hand clap onto Aiden’s shoulder and a chortling laugh again.

“And you must be little Arden.” He’s standing right behind her, peering over her shoulder and Arden freezes in terror. Aiden’s hand squeezes hers a little harder. “She’s strong. Not bad, Milah. Can’t feel pain, you say? We could really use someone like her. I’m sure Sykes would be willing to cut you a deal for her— let’s say...he’ll forego the rest of your payments.” Arden’s heart is beating fast in her chest. She doesn’t know what he means by payments, but she _does_ know that he’s asking to take her away from her family because of her condition. Arden knows she can’t feel pain—she’s never felt pain. When she was even younger she used to roughhouse with Aiden, but even when he accidentally pushed her down onto a sharp rock and made her bleed, she never felt it. Terrified, Arden looks up at Mother, who is avoiding her gaze.

“She’s not for sale.” Arden turns to look at her brother, who is tense and looks angry. “She’s a person. She’s only eight.” His voice is hard and scary, the one he uses to tell her to go away when she’s being a pest. The house is quiet. The only sound Arden can hear is breathing. Aiden broke the rules, but he’s trying to save her, to keep her here. He doesn’t want her to go with the scary man, and Arden feels her body lighten at the thought.

“I’ve got this week’s payment right here, Martin,” Father says quickly. “Don’t mind the boy—he’s just a smart-mouthed teenager.”

The man chuckles again, ruffling Arden’s hair that hangs loosely around her shoulders. “Sure thing, Xavier. I’ll be seeing you next week then.” The man moves off, his heavy boots clunking against the wooden floors. The door is opened and then closed. As soon as that happens, Father is hoisting Aiden from his chair, ripping his hand from Arden’s, who cries out in shock. She turns just in time to see Father’s hand cross Aiden’s cheek with a resounding _crack._

“You were told to keep your mouth shut, boy!” Father bellows, clearly angry. Arden shrinks back from the violence, from the loud tone. She wants to run to her room and hide, but she hasn’t been dismissed from the table and isn’t allowed to move until then.

“That’s enough, Xavier!” Mother shrills from across the table. “He was only saying what we wanted to!” Father stands there, breathing hard, and then lets Aiden go. Her brother stumbles away, holding his cheek, and Arden can see the blood where his lip has split. “Children, you are dismissed. Go to your room.” Arden scrambles off her chair, being sure to push it in before rushing over to Aiden and pulling him behind her back down the hall. Once in their room, her tiny fingers scrabble for the matches, lighting a few candles dotted about the tiny, cramped room, before pushing Aiden to sit on his bed and inspecting his lip.

“That’s going to bruise,” Arden whispers. “You might get a black eye.” She finds a bit of clean cloth and hunts around for the small flask of alcohol that they use to clean up cuts. Arden pours a dash onto the cloth and then presses it to Aiden’s lip. He winces, but doesn’t protest. Arden throws her arms around him and squeezes. “Thank you.”

His bigger arms wrap around her and squeeze just as tight. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promises. “I won’t let _anyone_ hurt you, Arden.” They stay that way for a few minutes, and then she scrambles to hide the alcohol and cloth when she hears Mother’s footsteps coming down the hall. They stole the flask from Father’s bedside table months ago in order to help treat injuries. Arden doesn’t know why, but she does it anyway.

“It’s time for bed,” Mother announces. Obediently, Arden and Aiden begin changing into their raggedy, torn sleepclothes and slide into their respective beds. “You may not get up again until the morning when your Father or I retrieve you. Goodnight, children.”

“Goodnight, Mother,” the siblings chorus. Mother blows out two of the three candles before leaving, pulling the door shut behind her. Arden pulls the thin, threadbare blanket up to her chin and turns on her side, back facing to the door. She dreads next week, when the man will come back like he has been for the past four months.

Arden jerks awake to the sounds of yelling from the main room of their home. Mother and Father are yelling at each other, but there’s another voice as well. Worried that the man might have come back to take her for Aiden’s disobedience, Arden sits up and squints through the darkness over to the other side of the room, where Aiden’s bed is. She’s shocked to see that it’s empty—the last time he was caught out of bed after hours, Father had beaten him black and blue. The third voice yells again, and Arden’s heart stutters when she recognizes Aiden’s voice. He’s out of bed when he’s not supposed to be and is arguing with Mother and Father. Father will kill him for sure. She’s torn—Arden wants to get up and go see what they’re arguing about, but she’s also afraid of getting out of bed. What if Father were to march Aiden back down the hall and find her breaking the rules as well? She hears Mother shout something in response, backed by Father’s gruff voice. Arden fidgets uncomfortably on her bed, fists clenching and unclenching around the edge of the blanket, eyes fixed firmly on the half-open door.

It goes quiet for a minute, and then Mother screams.

Arden sucks in a sharp breath at the sound—she can hear her heartbeat speeding up, can feel her pulse racing. What should she do? Surely, if Mother is screaming, she won’t get in trouble for getting out of bed, right? There could be something wrong—maybe Father is actually killing Aiden right now, and she’s back here, unable to do anything to stop him because she just doesn’t _know._ Arden pulls in a deep breath and pushes the blanket off of her. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips them into her boots. She would have preferred to move in the silence of bare feet, but once again, her fear of infection prevents that from happening, so boots it is. Holding her breath, Arden stands up and braces herself. She lifts a foot to take a step forward, but before she can get any further, Aiden bursts back into the room. Startled, Arden lets out a short scream and falls back onto her bed.

He doesn’t spare her a glance. “Get a bag and pack your warm clothes, Arden,” he tells her, voice rough. He strides across the room, reaching under his bed and yanking a cloth sack out from underneath his bed. When he doesn’t hear her moving, Aiden says, “ _Now._ ” His stern tone is enough to get her moving, and she reaches under her own bed to get a cloth sack as well. She wants to ask what’s happening, why Mother screamed, why she needs to pack her warm clothes, but she isn’t supposed to argue with Aiden, just like she isn’t supposed to argue with Mother or Father. So, without a word, Arden begins piling her warm clothes into the bag without bothering to fold them first. She shoves them in, but the bag is barely half full, so she pulls the blanket from her bed and puts it in as well. Her doll, disrupted by the sudden movement of the blanket, falls to the ground. Arden reaches out to grab it, but hesitates. Aiden never told her to pack it. With a glance at his still-turned back, Arden swiftly grabs her doll and pushes it down into the folds of the blanket, closing the satchel.

Now finished with her task, Arden turns around. Aiden’s bag is on his bed, still open, and her brother is digging through his drawer in their shared dresser. “Aiden?” She starts hesitantly. “May I ask a question?” It’s what she’s been raised to do—an old standby. She must ask for permission before doing anything. She’s not allowed out of bed in the morning unless Mother or Father say she can. She’s not allowed to read any of Mother’s books unless she is given the go-ahead. She is not by any means allowed outside beyond their rickety front porch, and even then, someone must be able to see her at all times.

“What is it, Arden?” Aiden asks, shoving something into his satchel and closing it. When he turns around, Arden is reminded that they don’t look anything alike. He has Mother’s dirty-blonde hair and Father’s brown eyes. She has Father’s pitch-black hair and Mother’s pale green eyes. He’s also ten years older than she, towering over her small frame.

“What’s going on?” Arden asks, her voice small. Immediately, Aiden frowns and she knows she’s asked the wrong question.

Instead of answering, Aiden picks up his satchel and shoulders it. “Grab your bag and let’s go,” he orders. Arden wants to press the issue, but that will only make her brother angry, so she picks up her satchel and pulls the strap across her body, scrambling after her brother as he strides out of their bedroom. Arden hurries down the hall, but when she enters the main room of the house, she freezes in shock. Mother is sprawled across the floor just to the left of the hall, mostly in the kitchen. Her apron, which Mother makes sure to keep a pristine, bright white, is stained with deep crimson that comes from three big cuts in her stomach. The red seeps across the fabric, dripping down onto the floor—but it’s Mother’s face that causes terror to spike through Arden’s body.

Mother’s mouth is open wide in a silent, perpetual scream. Her pale green eyes are wide and traumatized, pleading, scared… but _lifeless._ There’s no shine or knowing spark or disapproving glare.

Father is in the living room, laying on his stomach, but he isn’t breathing and he isn’t moving and there is more red in a rapidly-growing puddle around him, sticking to the splintery wood. Arden doesn’t know what to do. They’re both hurt, but they’re not moving, and Aiden is just charging past them as if they don’t exist.

“Aiden?” Arden whispers, still frozen on the spot. She wants to scream. She wants to cry. She wants to run away and she wants to collapse where she stands.

“Keep moving, Arden,” her brother snaps firmly from where he stands by the door. “They’re dead. They can’t be helped. If we stay here, the man who did this will come back and kill us, too.” The command is enough to unfreeze Arden’s limbs. She keeps her eyes on Aiden, all but holding her breath as she does a sort of balancing act to cross the room. When she reaches him, Aiden turns to push his way outside and Arden panics, latching onto his arm and yanking him back with all her might.

“ _No!_ ” She screams, nothing short of pure terror bleeding into her desperate cry. “The monsters will swallow us in shadows! We’ll get Sun Sickness and die!”

Aiden twists himself around, kneeling in front of her. His large hands encase her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “Listen to me, Arden,” he says firmly. “ _There are no monsters._ There never were. Mother and Father made them up to scare you into staying in the house. We can’t do that anymore, because if we do, we’ll get killed.”

“But—” Arden tries to argue, but Aiden shakes her shoulders slightly, his grip firming and the intensity in his eyes growing.

“They made the monsters up,” he tells her again. “Mother and Father lied. The only monsters that exist out there are the ones that are human, like us. Understand? Hold my hand and stay with me. I promised I would keep you safe.” He clasps her smaller hand in his, grip so tight she can’t even flex her fingers, and stands. Before Arden can say anything else, he pushes the door open and pulls her outside onto their small porch that is barely standing. Arden tenses, waiting for the monsters to descend, glancing around furtively.

Nothing comes.

Aiden tugs her down the small flight of uneven wooden stairs and onto the ground, the first time Arden has ever done so in her life. He hurries them across the street, and Arden struggles to keep up with his larger strides, practically running beside him. Her hair brushes across her face, and she uses her free hand to brush it aside impatiently.

“Where are we going, Aiden?” Arden asks, trying to keep her voice down yet still be heard. They reach the other side of the street and duck into an alley between two house complexes.

“I don’t know,” Aiden replies. “But it will be far away from here.”

* * *

 

It’s been three and a half months since they were forced to flee their home, abandoning their parents’ lifeless bodies. Since then, Aiden has told her what happened. Mother and Father owed money to an awful man named Ian Sykes, who kept demanding more and more from them. That’s why they didn’t have much food and why their age-old valuables were slowly disappearing from their house. The other man, Martin, worked for Sykes by collecting the payments every week. Mother and Father were short on this week’s, and Martin came back to collect. She heard Mother and Father yelling at him, and Aiden went out to find them dying. That was when he came back to get her and take her away, before Martin could come back and take her.

In that time, they’ve taught themselves how to successfully pickpocket and steal food in order to survive. They have also found others living on the streets who were also run out of their homes by Sykes. At first, it was just a couple, but then they found more and more—and now, including herself and her brother, there are ten altogether.

Aiden found a rather large abandoned area at the back of an alley a few blocks away from the market. It’s up against the crumbling brick wall that separates the rest of the Underground City away from an abandoned sector, surrounded by stacks and piles of boxes. It’s closed off and hidden, with only one entrance. There is no evidence that anyone had used it as a living area before, which makes it an ideal place to house ten outcasts. They call themselves the Others, the ones that don’t fit.

Arden, at the insistence of her brother, begins learning how to fight. She trains with the Others and on her own, slowly gaining skill and confidence and, most importantly, _speed._ Taking hits is dangerous because she can’t feel if anything is broken. So, the only countermove to that is being fast. She’s small and light, and she’s young, so most underestimate her. Arden knows if she is always faster and stays five steps ahead of her opponent, keeping an open mind and using her environment, she will come out on top with a minimal amount of minor injuries.

She’s currently in their compound, helping Fiona, one of the Others, pull a thick fabric over top a small living area supported by boxes. Most of their shelters are like this, constructed of boxes and collected fabrics, creating sort of hybrid tents that are small, but effective. Aiden has taken control of the small group, planning and organizing attacks in order to find where Ian Sykes is hiding, and then to get to the man and kill him. So far, they’ve made very little progress. Between Sykes’ men and the Military Police, who have definitely taken notice of their activities, it’s been more difficult than any of them expected. Arden leaves Fiona to tack down the fabric, taking notice of Spencer, a twelve-year-old boy with brown hair and soft features, who has sequestered himself into a corner of the compound with a book. He had found it on last night’s raid, and has been reading it all day.

Arden plops down beside him, tugging at one of the short braids of her hair. Fiona had taught her how to braid her own hair so it doesn’t get in the way, and she loves it. “So what’s it about?” She asks, peering over his shoulder. What she sees are colorful pictures of some type of Surface animal that she’s never seen before. The pages are a bit faded, but clearly readable.

“It’s a sort of guide,” Spencer replies, turning the page. “About animals called birds. They live on the Surface and can fly.” Arden, now fully interested, leans more towards the book. A picture of a bird with brown markings and a white underbelly catches her eye.

She points to it. “This one looks like you,” she says. Spencer takes a closer look at the specific picture.

“It’s called a sparrow,” he tells her. “And I think you’re right.” He’s silent for a moment, then begins flipping backwards through the book until he finds a certain page. He points to another picture. “This one looks like you. It’s called a lark.” Arden looks closely at the picture. The bird is small, with a color that matches her strange, pale olive skin. “What if we all took names of birds?” Spencer says, sounding more and more excited. “What if we called each other by bird names instead of our real ones, that way we’re safer?” Arden thinks. It isn’t a bad idea. Sykes and his men won’t know who they are, and they’ll confuse the Military Police that way.

Arden jumps to her feet, hauling Spencer to his and pulling him across the compound and into the shelter she shares with her brother. “Aiden!” She calls as she bursts in, startling her older brother as he pours over a map of the Underground City. “Spencer has an amazing idea!” She nudges Spencer forward, who shyly puts the book down on the box Aiden uses as a table and explains his idea. At the end, Aiden sits back, thinking. Arden holds her breath.

“It is a good idea,” Aiden finally says. “Let’s call the Others and we’ll vote on it. Good job, Spencer.” Spencer blushes, always been a bit nervous around Aiden for some reason. Aiden leads the way out into the main area of the compound and calls everyone to gather together. “Spencer here has an idea that we should take nicknames. Completely shed our old ones and use these instead. It will make it harder for us to get caught, and no one’s ever heard of these things before down here. Do we agree?” The answer is unanimous—they will all take on a new name.

Spencer becomes Sparrow. Fiona becomes Finch because of her yellow shirt. Cardinal chooses her name because her red hair matches the bird’s feathers. Crow picks his name because the bird is supposed to be loud and fierce. Falcon takes his because the bird is a hunter, just like him. Wren picks hers because the color of the feathers matches her light brown skin, somewhat of a rarity here in the Underground. Robin took his because he liked the bird’s striking underbelly. Pipit, the youngest of the Others at only six years old, takes the name of the small, cheerful bird. Aiden becomes Hawk, a swift and cunning bird that hunts and is a natural leader. It suits him.

“What about you, Arden?” Pipit asks, bouncing over to her and clutching at her hand with a grin. The rest stare at her expectantly, waiting for her decision.

Arden looks directly at Sparrow as she says, “Lark.”

* * *

 

Lark is still wide awake when Falcon, Cardinal, Wren, and Robin return from a raid. Food, clothes, weapons, and a few other trinkets fill their bags and pockets, but the real prize is a set of Omni-Directional Maneuver Gear, clutched proudly in Falcon’s hands. Hawk takes one look at it and tells Falcon to put it aside, not seeing any real value in it, but Lark does. In the dead of night, she sneaks out of her shared shelter and takes the gear, climbing over the wall that creates a natural barrier for their compound and hauling it over with her. Using the light of a candle in the abandoned sector on the other side of the wall, Lark struggles to sort through the tangled mass of belts, confused and feeling utterly lost in the face of such a challenge. She’s sure the Military Police were given instructions on how to put on so many straps, but she has no clue.

It takes her hours before she gets anywhere, figuring out that she needs to loop certain straps around her feet. Thinking back and picturing a few Military Policeman, Lark tries to recreate the pattern of belts going up her legs. That alone takes a few tries and several different combinations, but when she finds the right one, the rest of the leg straps fall into place. Lark makes sure to tighten the buckles, keeping them snug out of sheer instinct. She thinks they’re just like ropes—if you tie a rope around your wrist too loose, it will slip off; if you tie the rope too tight, your blood will stop flowing to your hand and then you can’t use it properly. Lark straps a belt around her waist, then connects two other straps in a criss-cross pattern over her pelvic area, attaching them to the top set of belts around her thighs. She pulls a harness-like piece over her shoulders, feeling belts press strangely into her sides, and connects the pieces in the middle of her chest, tightening the buckle there.

Lark shifts, uncomfortable. The belts seem to grate against her skin through the fabric of her clothes. Next, she struggles to hook the tanks up correctly, but she thinks she gets it.

And now all she needs to do is learn how to use it.

Lark continues to learn how to use the ODM on her own, messing with the mechanisms when they act funny and ultimately struggling to understand the complex gear. Eventually, about three weeks after learning how to successfully maneuver around the abandoned sector, she runs out of gas and is forced to stop learning. It’s highly unlikely that she’ll be able to get her hands on more fuel, and since Hawk hadn’t seen a point to learning with it, he won’t make it a priority to try.

* * *

 

Lark scowls as she stalks her way down the street, boots colliding loudly with the packed dirt in her anger. She’d been sent out on her own on a solo mission that morning. She’s her brother’s right-hand, the second in command because she’s so fast and so skilled in just a short amount of time. She was following up on a lead on Sykes, but it was just a bait and trap. It’s been four months since she became Lark, and she knows she has changed immensely. Gone is the scared little girl. Gone is the free-spirited innocence that came with the freedom of living on the streets. Now, all that is left is her burning desire for revenge. Lark has spent all of her time focusing her anger on her target, ready to do anything necessary to end this crusade.

And in that time, Lark has killed. She had killed a great many, actually, in her quest for revenge. The first time had been out of self-defense—the man had given her no other choice. He would not have stopped even after she defeated him. He would have followed her back to the compound and then the Others would be in danger. The only way to silence him permanently was to cut his throat open. She’d been a wreck for days, plagued by nightmares and the fear that she’d never be able to scrub the blood from her hands and blade. Hawk had been the one to snap her out of it, saying that Sykes murdered their parents in cold blood and won’t hesitate to murder them, too. It was for the good of the Others. It was for the cause.

A man brushes by her, and without thinking, Lark slides her hand into his pocket and emerges with seven coins. She swings by the market and buys a little doll for Pip. She’d already given her own to the younger girl, not having a need for it herself. It doesn’t ward off the nightmares that swim with Mother’s face and the faces of those she’s killed. Then, she makes her way back to the compound. Lark glances over both shoulders before ducking into the right alley. It smells like piss and vomit, but she just breathes through her mouth and continues walking. As she approaches the seemingly dead end, a familiar  hulking figure slides out of a little hidden area just where the entrance to the compound is.

“Is that you, Lark?” Crow calls.

She rolls her eyes. “Who else would it be?” Her voice is surly and rough, showcasing her lack of success.

“Hawk’s been expecting you back for hours now,” the large man tells her, stepping aside and letting her in. Lark grunts, shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers, where the small doll is.

“Lark!” Pip runs across the compound, her sandy hair wild and her face alight with excitement. She skids to a stop just beside Lark, staring up at her with a bright grin, multicolored eyes swimming with joy. “Did ya get me something?” Lark stares down at the younger girl, unimpressed. They stay that way for a while, until Lark’s stony expression cracks with the barest hint of a smirk. She digs the doll out of her pocket and produces it for Pip’s inspection, who squeals in excitement and crushes the doll to her chest. “Thanks, Lark! Robin, Wren, look what Lark brought me!” Pip races off to show the doll to the aforementioned Others. Since finding Pip, Wren and Robin have become her caretakers of sorts. She lives in their shelter and they make sure she gets clothes and food.

The smirks slides away again, her frustrations returning to her as she continues on her way to her own shelter. Inside, Hawk, Cardinal, and Falcon are all gathered around their makeshift table, looking over maps and gathered information. At her entrance, Cardinal and Falcon leave. Hawk stands up, looking worried. “Did you find him?” He asks.

Lark, a bit miffed that the first thing he asks has nothing to do with her well-being, says, “Oh, no, I’m fine, thanks. And no, I didn’t. It was a baited trail leading right into a trap. It was meant to draw us out. But yeah, I’m just fine, Hawk.”

Hawk sighs, pushing a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “I’m sorry, Lark,” he says, walking over to her and hugging her tightly. Once upon a time, Lark used to be comforted by hugs. Now, they make her uncomfortable and she feels trapped. She waits, rigid, until Hawk lets go. “I just thought we would have got him by now.”

Lark glances away, questioning if she should speak her mind. “We’ve been at this for close to a year now, Hawk,” she says against her better judgement, “and nothing to show for our efforts. How long are we going to keep at it? How many people do we have to kill? How many times will we tempt fate with the Military Police?” These doubts have been building in the back of her mind, always repressed by her need for revenge.

Hawk’s face hardens, glare sharpening. “As long as it takes!” He yells, clearly angry. “That monster is a menace, Lark, and we’re the only ones who can stop him!”

Lark’s own anger boils to the surface at his tone. “But we haven’t!” She points out, her volume raising to match his. “We’re no closer to our goal than we were when Mother and Father were killed! We can’t stay in the shadows forever, you know. Eventually, someone _will_ find us and then what? We’ll go to jail and get put on trial for all the crimes we’ve committed, or we’ll all be killed in our sleep!”

“ _We have no choice!_ ” Hawk bellows. “The Military Police don’t matter. We just need to kill Sykes and then we can worry about after, okay?” Lark glares at her older brother. He’s ignoring her, like always. His voice quiets, visibly deflating. “We have to do this. For Mother and Father. For the Others. For Pip.” Lark’s own anger wavers, because he’s right. It’s not just them—they have a whole camp of people they’re responsible for. All of them have been slighted by Sykes, have had their lives destroyed. The image of her Mother’s dead face flashes through her mind.

“Okay,” she murmurs, anger fading away entirely. “I’m going to get some sleep.” Hawk nods, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and she moves through the tight space to her own little area. It is separated by a cloth sheet hung from the fabric ceiling to give her some privacy. Inside is a small space with her bedroll and just enough space to kick her boots off. Instead of doing just that, Lark pulls the far edge of the fabric up and ducks out of their shelter, hidden by the structure. She is faced with the crumbling brick wall that keeps them separated from the abandoned sector. Using little dents and divots in the bricks as grips, Lark climbs the wall and pulls herself over it, lowering herself down with her arms until she can safely let go and drop to the ground below. Years ago, before she was born, an epidemic broke out. Officials built the wall to keep the infected in, who slowly died out. Since then, the place has sat empty, the buildings slowly crumbling and destabilizing over time. However, in this dank hell, Lark has found a patch of sunshine—literally.

Far above the ground, directly over a tall building meant to house a lot of people, is a heavy metal grate that allows air to circulate down into the Underground City—and sunlight. Humans need sunlight to survive, and in a place devoid of it, it can be difficult. There is really no way to combat it—some say that staying active helps, but this has been proven false. It can only be treated by very expensive Surface medicine. Lark discovered the grate after fighting with Hawk not long after creating the compound, and now comes frequently to sit and soak in the sun’s healing rays. Lark carefully climbs the rickety stairs inside the building until she reaches the top floor, where she has created a makeshift ladder to reach a hole in the roof. She sits directly in the center of the spot of sun, face tipped upwards and eyes closed. The sun is warm, spilling across her body and her dirty clothes. Her dark hair picks up a majority of the heat, but she doesn’t mind.

She isn’t sure how long she sits there in peace, body and mind relaxed. This is the only place she feels truly safe—on top of a tall, unstable building that could collapse at any minute, sure, but no one else dares to come here, the scare of illness enough to drive them away.

“Hey, Lark!” A familiar voice calls from up above her. “Are you there?” Opening her eyes, Lark can just see the darkened outline of a head peering over the edge of the grate, being careful not to block the sunlight.

“I’m here, Teagan,” is Lark’s response, just loud enough for the Surface-dwelling girl to hear her. Just because nobody comes here doesn’t mean she needs to draw attention to herself by yelling.

“Yay! Ooh, I got you something,” Teagan says excitedly. “Mom and Dad took me to the market and let me pick whatever I wanted from a sweets shop. I got a whole bag! Here.” A hand reaches down through the grate, and the building is high enough that Lark only needs to stretch her arm upwards, even sitting down, and take the offered items. When Lark brings her hand down, she inspects the small items resting in her palm. They’re sweets, wrapped in individual wrappers with different colors and different flavors. There’s strawberry, caramel, and milk. Lark is touched. It is very rare that anyone hands something to her of their own free will without expecting some sort of payment, and she finds these small edible objects such a treasure. Lark selects the caramel one and pockets the rest.

She unwraps the sweet and pops it into her mouth. “Thank you,” she tells Teagan sincerely as the flavor explodes over her tongue. Lark hadn’t known anything made by man could be this flavorful.

“So, anything new down there?” Teagan asks. And this is what they normally do—they learn about their separate worlds through one another. They sit for hours, talking about their lifestyles and their environments and the people they live with. It’s an odd sort of friendship, but Lark feels more open about sharing things with Teagan than even her brother, Hawk. Teagan knows everything. She knows about Lark’s revenge mission, about her parents, about the Others, about the people she’s killed. And, to her surprise, Teagan hadn’t cared. She _should_ have, but the other girl just brushed it off and put it down to being part of Lark’s lifestyle, just like caring for a small vegetable garden is part of Teagan’s.

They talk until the sun begins to leave and Teagan is called back inside for dinner. Lark is reminded of her own empty stomach, aching from lack of food. They say their goodbyes, and Lark carefully makes her way down the building, across the sector, and then up and over the wall again. She ducks back into her shelter, hidden by her privacy sheet, just in time to hear Hawk speaking to someone in the main part of the shelter.

“It’s one job, Finch,” Hawk is saying. “You do this, and they’ll tell us exactly where Sykes is. It’s that simple.”

“I don’t know,” Finch says, sounding uncertain. Lark pauses, unabashedly eavesdropping. “Something about this just seems off, Hawk. What if it’s a trap? I’ll get caught for sure.” Lark frowns. While it’s not uncommon for Hawk to send others on missions, she’s usually the one that goes on the more dangerous ones because she’s younger, smaller, and more likely to get away with troublemaking. Besides, it sounds like he’s trying to coerce Finch into doing the job when she’s clearly uncomfortable with it. While Hawk is their leader, the Others have a say in what they do. It’s the only way to keep harmony—if someone says no, then they mean it and the subject should be dropped.

“Finch—”

“ _No,_ Hawk,” Finch says, sounding more and more sure of her choice, “It’s not as if I’m trying to kill a nobody, okay? You’re asking me to kill Nile Dok—there is no way I’ll be able to get out of that.” Lark is well aware of Nile Dok. He’s the Section Chief of the Military Police for this city, and Finch is right. There is no way she’ll be able to kill him and then escape. Even if she did somehow manage it, the Military Police would be after her on their own revenge course, and it would mean nothing but trouble for the rest of the Others. Hawk is getting too blinded by his need for revenge.

Just as Lark is about to step out of her little area and cut in to reel her brother back, she hears a pained yelp, followed by, “You _will_ do this job, Fiona. I have come too far for you to fuck this up. I turned my little sister into a weapon. I killed my parents because they were too weak to stand up to Sykes, and I’ll kill you too if you don’t do this job.”

Lark’s body goes ice-cold, as if winter has just set in and frozen her in spot. And then anger floods in—white hot and churning through her entire being, superheating her into a frenzy. Lark’s fists clench before she lunges forward, throwing the privacy sheet aside and moving out into the main area of their shelter. What she sees only intensifies the anger. Hawk has Finch pinned down on the ground, one hand pressing her face into the ground and the other holding one of her arms straight back in a twisted grip, threatening to break it.

“What was that, Hawk?” Lark doesn’t recognize her own voice. It’s too low, bordering on a boy’s tone, and is filled with her anger. She watches her brother freeze momentarily before he scrambles off of Finch without giving her a second glance, whirling around.

“It’s not what you think, Lark—”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Lark snaps, cutting him off. There’s no other way she could have interpreted his words—and the fact that he said it so glibly to Finch tells her that at least some of the Others know, and haven’t told her.

Hawk’s brown eyes flash, his own anger rising to meet hers. “We were starving, Arden!” He yells. “Sykes kept demanding more and more and Mother and Father were just going to let him! Next he would have taken our house—Mother and Father were debating about trading you to him! He would have used your condition to turn you into a weapon and then—”

“And then what, Aiden?” Lark interrupts darkly. “Because I’ve been turned into a weapon here, too, so you better tell me what would have happened with Sykes. I have _killed_ people because of your stupid lies! I have nightmares every night of my mother’s dead face, of the people I murdered in cold blood for absolutely no reason! I pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion to make myself better, stronger, smarter, faster, only to nearly collapse and then continue on! Even if you did kill Mother and Father, why not choose a path that didn’t end with innocent people dying?”

Hawk starts towards her, reaching out to grasp her shoulders like he so often does. “Arden—”

Lark smacks his hand away. “ _Don’t fucking touch me,_ ” she snarls, automatically reaching for the knife in her boot, flipping the handle around until the blade is running parallel to her forearm.

Hawk scoffs. “What are you going to do with that?” He taunts. “I’m all you have left. The Others won’t listen to you and they won’t let you stay if you kill me.” And he’s right. He is the only member of her family that she has left alive, and she’s only eight. Crow or Cardinal will take over running the group if he dies, and if she murders him, then she’ll be driven out.

Somehow, Lark can’t find it in herself to care.

Lark lunges, forcing Hawk back. His eyes narrow and he draws his own blade, sliding easily into a defensive stance. They’re in close quarters, but out of all the shelters in the compound, theirs is the biggest. Hawk is at a decided disadvantage, being taller and wider-set. He’s still thin in comparison to Crow’s hulking form, but he’s lean and wiry. Lark is younger and smaller, taking up less space and requiring less energy to move. She’s also faster than him—she’s faster than everyone in the compound by leagues—and has only one thing on her mind: _break pound tear_ **_destroy_** _._ He’s ruined her life. He’s only thought of himself, of covering his tracks by forcing her to kill a man who never did a thing to her.

Lark lunges again, ducking under Hawk’s predictable counterstrike mean to hit her shoulder and skidding her own blade across the top of his thigh. Hawk’s next breath hisses angrily through his teeth and he stumbles back a few steps, trying to block out the pain. Lark has never struggled with pain before. She can inflict it, and she can take it, but she can’t feel it. Without hesitating, capitalizing on the opening as per her own fighting rules, Lark doesn’t let up in the slightest. Her next cut slices open Hawk’s shoulder, forcing him to drop his own knife. With the biggest threat eliminated, Lark moves on autopilot stabs into his stomach quickly, and when he doubles over, she yanks the blade free of his flesh and make one deep, decisive cut across his throat from ear to ear.

Hawk lets out a gurgling noise and Lark’s eyes widen as her actions catch up to her.

Her brother falls to the ground, clutching at his throat, blood spurting from between his fingers. Lark freezes—she hadn’t wanted to kill him, she was just fighting, just moving on autopilot because in an actual fight, you don’t stop halfway, you just _win._ But does she really want to live in a group that has been lying to her for nearly a year?

In the end, it’s her hesitation that kills him.

While Lark debated, Hawk had quickly bled out, the puddle of crimson staining his clothes and skin and surrounding his upper body like a grisly halo. Shocked, Lark drops to her knees, heedless of the blood staining her trousers. A drop of liquid splashes down onto Hawk’s cheek, mingling with a droplet of blood and running down off of the plane of his face. When Lark’s shaking fingers touch her own cheek and comes away wet, she is forced to acknowledge that she is crying.

And just like that, a dam breaks inside and she begins _sobbing._ Great, heaving sobs, blubbering and breathless, wailing in grief and anger and a plethora of other emotions that she can’t identify and doesn’t understand. And she stays like that, hunched over her brother’s corpse, kneeling in his blood as she cries until her head is throbbing and her eyes and jaw ache strangely, her tongue thick and useless. Minutes pass, but for all Lark knows, it could have been days or months or even years. What she does know is that as quickly as the tears came, they just stop. It’s such an abrupt, dizzying change that Lark is left wondering if she had been crying at all. She reaches a hand up and presses it to her face. It comes away wet. She was crying.

She needs to get out of there.

Lark knows she can’t stay with the Others. She could go anywhere, but she wants out of the Underground City. She needs to be free of this hell, where she was chasing a monster that never existed. No, it exists— _she_ is the monster. Her shelter is empty. Finch must have slipped out while Lark was distracted, and no one has come to check on the commotion. Lark scrambles to her feet, stripping her trousers off and exchanging them for her only other pair. She cleans her blade and slips it into her boot before rushing to her little area and ducking out the back.

She’s going to be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to bounce around and hit as many important points in her time in the Underground as I could without making it choppy and hard to follow. I've been working on this chapter since the beginning of the story, practically, so I hope you enjoy. I do realize that it's not her whole backstory, but hang in there! This is 13 pages worth and filled with more backstory than I've ever hinted at.


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